#only weed has ever helped with the dreaming

[faetreides]

- # 🍁 THE NEMEAN LION !!

feels so ugly when i’m honest

cw: afab reader, ambiguous era, dubcon coded, insp. by this ask, patrick and reader have noncon somno fantasies about the other (so rlly it’s more cnc), patrick is gross and mean, situationship/roommate!patrick, unprotected p in v sex & relying on the pull out method, weed mention and wine mention, art guest star appearance (patrick mentions him), oral (afab reader receiving), hints of: foot fetish, dacryphilia, cnc in general, plus sized!reader, mythological themes, 3k words of me losing my marbles, one use of daddy, we don’t gotta be in love you knowweeeeee i don’t gotta be the oneeee you knowweeeeeeeeew

You’re making him crazy, Patrick knows it. He shouldn’t spend his mornings humping his pillows that you hold in your lap during movie nights. He definitely shouldn’t be stealing your panties and strangling his cock with the lacey fabric that’s going to end up smelling so foul from how much he’ll use the same pair over and over. He thinks he can catch your scent on his clothes when you’ve never actually been close enough to leave a reminder of you behind. Sometimes Patrick gets so frustrated with continuing at this same snail’s pace that he wishes he could just grab your face and smush it into his musky crotch. He’d let you go if you were about to pass out, maybe. You can’t get shit twisted if you’re unconscious.

He’s telling you another one of his stories, hoping to see a twinge of… something swirling in your irises. You just hum too much and squirm a bit, ever the overactive listener. Patrick would cut off his balls if it meant that he could hear anything resembling a moan from you, not just little signs that you’re listening and not speaking. The transformer movie’s reached a point where you don’t really have to pay attention, so you cutely shuffle your mess of blankets around on the couch so you can give Patrick your undivided attention. He’s had to start keeping space in his closet for the large throw blankets you bring along even though you refuse to let him turn the fan off.

“Yeah, I was with Art actually. We ate each other out back in the day, y’know, to see what it was like. He sat on my face and fuckin’ almost broke my neck, his thighs were gripping me so tight.” He coyly tilts his head to the side, pretending to be shy about the whole thing.

He narrows his eyes and analyzes your reaction. You dart your gaze around the room for a split second, struggling to tamper down the blossoming warmth in your stomach and the insecurity that comes with never being able to catch up with Patrick. You’ve confessed to it a couple times, usually after a couple of bottles of whatever cheap alchohol he’s got on hand. His nails shred into his palms with the effort it takes not to give you something to talk about, even if you think they’re only dreams.

“When was the first time someone ate you out? I can’t be the only one shoving my foot in my mouth here.”

God, what he’d give to have your feet in his mouth, and vice versa.

You play with the fluffy black blanket in your lap, making eye contact with one of the cartoon nutcrackers on it and not Patrick as you answer his question. “Oh… I’ve actually never been eaten out, maybe that’s why no one’s made me cum.”

It’s a like his world has been hit by an unexpected asteroid and blown to smithereens, bits of membrane and curdled dna scattered across the milky way. The gross-ness imbued in his bone marrow leaks out into vaccum of space as he processes this truly fucking suprising piece of information. Never in his life has Patrick been told something that just can’t be true, not when there are still good things in the world. Not when that helpful little tidbit will split him open and take over his every waking and sleeping thought.

He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “What? What the hell do you mean no one’s ever eaten your pussy?”

“I, I don’t know. The people I've been with have just never gone out of their way to do it and I didn't make a big deal out of it.”

His heart’s breaking in half and you clearly have no idea. Patrick scrambles to sit up and grabs your hands to stop them from fiddling with the blanket anymore. There are a thousand things he wants and needs and just has to say but all he can do in the present moment is keep shaking his head and crowding you against the right arm of his tattered gray couch.

“Then they’re so fucking stupid, I can’t believe you don’t know what it feels like to have a tongue up your cunt.” He states, a firm declaration that has you throwing out a hand on his bicep to ground yourself.

Patrick looks crazed above you, dark hair impossibly soft and pupils steadily expanding outward. You slide your hand up his arm (trying to ignore the muscle there, what it’d be like when they flex as he picks you up by your ass) to place it on his firm chest. You open your mouth, trying to cobble together any kind of response you can think of but your mind is blank. Patrick seizes the opportunity and smahes his mouth against yours, when the clashing of your lips is over there’s more blood than spit. He flicks his tongue out to catch the little drops of blood dripping from your lips, moaning after he swallows each one.

You’re catching your breath, “You… you can’t… just do that.”

He rolls his eyes and grins, “I did. I can hear you through the walls at night you know? Rubbing your pussy on one of my pillows that you think I don't know you stole, crying for me.”

Damn, that’s what you get for making risky decisions while you’re ovulating. You knew you washed it and should’ve snuck in while he was out to throw it on his plaid comforter and act like it never happened. The longer you kept it stuffed between your plush thighs, smothering it in the natural scent of your pussy, the more your shyness grew. It was easier to spend your nights like that then explore the possibility of doing something else with your time, but now you’re just wishing that you hopped on Patrick’s stupidly huge dick while he was passed out and snoring and called it a day.

“I… I’m sorry, okay? You can have it back.” You say and keep the grumpiness out of your tone, having to come to terms with hoarding nothing that smells like him anymore.

“Just shut up and be happy, be good for me.” He punctuates it with a mean squeeze to your face, slowly sliding his hand down to hang around your throat and falling to his knees in front of the couch.

Maybe it’s the cheap white wine, maybe it’s the subpar edible you had earlier, but you throw caution to the wind and sink your fingers into Patrick’s hair. Your breath happily flies out of your lungs when he pushes your knees apart, coaxing your white lace panties off with his teeth. The bright lights from the TV cast a glow around him, and you hate how pretty he looks. Like if Hercules was a modern porn star, muscles rippling and eyes spearing through you as he catapults you to the stars.

The roughness of his fingers feels heavenly as he smooths them down your inner thighs, “Nice and fat pussy, dripping all over the place. Saying hi, right? It’d be rude of me to not say anything back.”

So he does, spitting right on your clit and spreading it all over your pussy. Patrick shuffles closer and takes several big lungfuls, humping the air with every whiff of your artificial body wash combined with your much more attractive musk. He opens his mouth wide and latches onto your soaking folds, flattening his tongue and licking broad stripes up your cunt. He laps up your juices sloppily, almost wagging his tongue wildly in an effort to suck up whatever he can.

There’s a coil forming in the pit of your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every swipe of Patrick’s wet tongue. Your face flames in embarrassment once again, you don’t really know if you look bad from his point of view but you can’t stop yourself from throwing your head back against the couch and scrunching your face up. He gives your asshole an open mouthed kiss, half to tease you even further and half because he just couldn’t resist. It was glistening and winking at him and everything.

“Fuck! Fuck! That’s so- how are you so good at this?” You mewl, raking through his hair thoroughly like you’re searching for something you lost.

Patrick’s ego grows in size and he smiles as he moves to your clit, hollowing his cheeks and suckling rapidly. He buries his face in your pussy and drinks you down in several gulps, picking up speed when you resign yourself to telltale moans about much you need to cum. He flicks the tip of his tongue against your swollen clit and slows down right when you’re apart to fall over the edge. He actually chuckles into your mound and winks when you glare at him. He cuts off whatever bratty retort you armed yourself with by going back to nearly inhaling your clit without warning.

“Ungh- I really-really fucking hate you, but don’t you dare stop, I’ll kill you.”

Each suck sends pulses shooting up your core, and that scary coil in the depth of your guts tightens blissfully. You squirm, the very definition of a hot mess as you grind against his face. The friction was never enough but you keep corralling his nose into your pubic hair, fruitlessly rutting your hips with no end goal other than the urge to hump whatever’s available. You panic for a second that you’ll suffocate him or he’ll be grossed out by you not shaving, but you shouldn’t underestimate him. If anything, Patrick groans at the heady smell. Getting it straight from the source and fucking the air during his suckling.

His eyes never stray from you. Your agonized face straight out of a renaissance painting, too strung out and burning with pleasure to resemble anything normal. Your thick thighs, jiggling with every move you make, you can’t seem to decide between humping his mouth like a bitch in heat or trying to squeeze his head like a watermelon. Your sounds, wails and cries and moans and whines, he’ll have to record you next time, play it anytime and anywhere in case you misunderstand what this is. The first documentation of how much cum and fluid you can paint him in, whatever color or thickness you’ve got for him. He’ll wring it all out of you eventually, film a home movie series to chronicle every squirting session and the like.

Gun to his head, you taste like those old fashioned butterscotch hard candies. Decadent and sweet, if he could he’d sink his teeth into the slippery supple flesh and pull and rip.

After several rounds of cruel edging, your brain whites out so hard, you can almost form the blurry shapes in your peripheral vision into a red spiked tail and horned wings. Patrick’s ruining you entirely, you know that now, and the movie’s already over but you don’t spare the scrawling credits more than a weary glance. Your soul is probably cartoonishly swimming through the putrid air towards your body, but your sweaty body is shaking too much to receive it. There’s a ringing in your ears as you blink yourself into awareness, Patrick unbuckles his jeans and a blunt pressure stretches your hole out.

“Sorry, ‘m out of condoms, I’ll pull out, baby.” He huffs out, praying to whatever’s listening that he doesn’t just start pummeling your shit.

You feel your stomach bunching up before you see Patrick’s dick disappearing into you. The feeling of being split open on something so thick has you reeling, no one else you’ve been with has left you spiraling quite like this. In a room full of dicks you’d be able to spot his, you’d just have to find the one that has the back of your throat tingling and going dry just from a sniff and a look. You’d cry if he pulled out now, it’s already too late for you. This is such a stupid decision, sloppy rough sex with your roomate-turned-situationship on his worn out couch that’s older than the both of you combined.

It’s one hell of a story, and maybe some moments in life should be allowed to boil down to that. The hand loosely wrapped around your throat tightens its hold, you welcome the thumb pushing into your mouth without prompting. The depravity of it all makes you feel owned, has you seriously considering living your life as some guy’s exclusive pet whore. The ‘squelch’s and the ‘schlick’s that come with his savage thrusts and milk white strings connecting the base of his cock to your puffy pussy.

Every breath you think you’re going to be able to take, he steals from you and mocks your whimpery “unh-unh-unh~”’s in his raspy mid-fuck voice.

“This is the only dick you’ll be hanging off of from now on, got it? Can’t let some lousy jackass try to sew his balls to this pussy when it’s not even gonna cream around him.” You say yes to that hissed demand, yes of course, Daddy.

Patrick plunges his cock to the hilt into your cunt in one sharp stroke, gasping and gripping your hip to distract himself from the way your walls are clenching around his length. Every part of you is greedy apparently, you’re perfect for each other then. The position he has you in is so filthy, he’s standing and hosting your legs up over his shoulders, folding you in half on the couch. His dirty levi’s pool around his feet and the sound of his belt hitting the floor inspires awful thoughts in you. Your sweat mixes together and trickles down your legs, sticking to his leg hair.

You can have it soft once he’s gotten this demon off his back and out of his system, you can ride him while you’re cozied up in bed, lazily rolling your hips until you get tired a couple minutes later and clinging to the caresses on your love handles. Patrick has to destroy something before he can even stand to think about putting it back together, your insides and you yourself are no exception. Your walls feel like the finest quality silk around his throbbing cock, leaking inside of you as he clutches onto your ankles. The TV’s automatically shut off by now, and the lack of background noise enhances his animalistic grunts and deep moans.

“Gonna fuck your tits next time, fuck-what the fuck-you’re too damn tight, massage them for you after, rub your cunt raw-“

Patrick fucks like he’s staking claim on a spoil of war, you’re learning, as if the pale ferryman’s hot on his heels and this sliver of time is the only sacred thing he’ll ever get in his wretched mortal life. All his, gone limp between bloody jaws and killing hands. He snarls in your face as he pounds your pussy, angling his hips to stab deeper in you than should be medically possible. You don’t when you start tearing up, but Patrick does nothing to wipe away your tears, not even lick them up. He just fucks you to the point where you’re crying, shutting his eyes as he throws his head back so you can’t see that he’s crying too. The both of you borrow from different sources of emotion.

“You sounded so scared when you were cumming, made my balls twitch, was cute.” Patrick tells you in between messy kisses, more focused on almost eating your face than properly locking lips with you.

His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he abruptly yanks himself out of you and lavishes your belly in ropes after ropes of cum. You’d reach down to dip a finger in and taste it, but you’re too annoyed at the thought that he’s depriving you of an orgasm again. You haven’t even decided whether you’re going to pout or flatbout get up and leave when Patrick’s sliding home once more. You give him a punched out gasp, sort of pained and kind of relieved, in response. He hisses through his teeth, grinding them together like it’s burning the flesh on his cock to plunge back into your searing pussy. Actively breaking and remaking you. Both of your muscles tense up as the wave threatens to crash over you.

“You can cry some more, if you want, I'd like that a lot. Beg me to save you from what I’m doing to you, to this tight pussy.”

Happy or sad, doesn’t matter. He knows you like it when he keeps you from fighting back, you suit being manhandled and made to take dick better than anyone else he’s slummed it with.

He hunches his back forward to kiss you again, and you claw red stripes down it as your tongue maps out every inch of his mouth. He pulls back and you spend several seconds like that sharing breath. You don’t realize what you’re saying out loud, things like ‘Holy shit you’re so fucking big-so good-it’s so fucking good’ and ‘Feels better than i thought it would, how is that even possible?’ It’s like your own little sex obsessed podcast, centering every episode around how situationship dick is on another level and will irrevocably destroy you. Patrick chuckles, he can’t wait to hold every treasured compliment from you over your head. You could say you’re done with whatever this is when he leaves the toilet seat up again but he’ll never forget you howling for him and his cock to never leave you.

Patrick will swing himself over the net into overstimulation before the next time your pussy’s clamping down on his thick cock and spasming, but he’ll be damned if you’re not gonna end up passed out and drooling while the sun rises. You can spend future movie nights cockwarming him, if you can stand to endure the sickeningly perfect stretch without being allowed to get your cunt beat. You’re mewling when you froth the base of his dick again, your walls pulse around him like you’re a cat laving up your favorite cream. Tonight’s not the night where you’ll be getting it straight from the source, maybe when you’re willing to take certain risks. His smiles are the most genuine when you drag out your whine to follow the speed in which he pulls out to paint your body. Tangy ribbons hanging over your love handles and dripping down to your ass cheeks.

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers x reader #challengers #challengers fanfiction #challengers smut #challengers movie #challengers film #challengers fic #challengers x you #challengers imagine #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig imagine #josh o’connor challengers #josh o’connor #josh o’connor x reader #patrick zweig challengers #josh o connor x you #josh o connor x reader #josh o connor #josh o’connor smut #⚰️.deaddove #ish #challengers 2024

[arlo-venn]

Now that marijuana is fully out of my system, the night terrors and getting trapped in nightmare loops for entire irl days at a time and the waking up kicking and screaming has returned! 🤠 And so far they’ve all been about the family that I am entirely estranged from for very good reasons 🤠 And my tics and waking seizures are making a come back! I’m having a lot of fun! 🤠

#I dream extremely vividly #I can read in dreams and use my phone like normal #Scroll through and text and all that #Phone calls are usually garbled but the rest is just like reality #I die in my dreams #I feel the physical pain #I feel them holding me down #I feel the wind on my face as I run run run from them #Woke up screaming for Tyrell this morning #Couldn’t stay awake and was dragged back into the loop #Kicked the fuck out of the shelf next to my bed recently #Woke up in a running crawl (right off my very tall bed) #Neck muscles enraged from the irl head flinging #At least the tics and neuro issues aren’t quite as bad as they usually are without weed #I assume because of the naltrexone? #which I will be out of soon with no $ to refill too :( #but low dose naltrexone does not help with the dreaming #only weed has ever helped with the dreaming #but hey I have been less nauseous these last few days at least #so that’s a win #idk what kind of tw to put on this post I’m sorry #I haven’t seen them in ten years irl #and now they’re torturing me every time I sleep #and it is so so so real #getting some dream things and reality things mixed up again #am confused #everything is a lot! all at once! always! #makes zero sense for stuff from compunding pharmacies to not be covered by insurance #makes zero sense for medical marijuana to be legal but not covered by insurance #compounding*

[megumishotgf]

fic recommendations ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ

here are some of my favourite fics currently!! yes most of them are smutty because i am a whore!! ♡

featuring: megumi, satoru, suguru, katsuki (+ a little yuuta + mikasa) credits to all these beautiful writers - pls check them out!! masterlist fic recs pt. ii pt. iii

: ̗̀➛ megumi fushiguro x reader

possessive megumi is tired of other men thirsting over you, including toji and satoru (fic: incredible... i come back to this all the time.)

first kiss with gumi leads to another first (fic: smutty but also so intimate i love it)

you ask megumi to rail you after ur ex cheats (he fucks you so good omg. part two of the fic this is the smutty part)

y/n is pregnant and craving donuts (manga spoilers, a little angsty but mostly cute fluff!!)

you worry megumi doesn't love you. he does (don't worry not angsty so cute and fluffy makes my heart swell!!)

late night call w/ gumi who is so crazy in love with you (im crying i love him)

clueless inspired stepcest with gumi (adding this with no shame it's so so good. soft dom gumi my favourite)

"pretend i'm a random girl at a bar coming onto you" (established relationship. so fucking funny and witty. thank u so much author)

finger fucking you until you squirt omfg (i'm going insane)

weed dealer megumi headcanons (smutty towards the end i love this so much)

megumi protects you from an ass then fucks you in his car (i love protective men)

ditching school to blow your nerdy skater boy gumi (school a.u omg!!)

: ̗̀➛ satoru gojo x reader

satoru finds footage of his teen years with suguru, y/n and shoko (angsty fic: this is so beautiful and could make me sob)

mating press with satoru (holy shit... he loses control of his technique cumming inside... i'm in awe)

y/n is suguru's sister and hates toru but eventually they fuck (i was hollering reading this it's so good)

satoru needs help cutting his hair. almost goes bald (this is so funny and heartwarming. a blessing from tumblr)

drunk satoru cries about your pussy being so good then comes home to fuck you good (possibly the best fic i've ever read. wow. he is so obsessed with you)

your clingy situationship w/ satoru (he's so soft and in love...)

: ̗̀➛ suguru geto x reader

suguru lets virgin! satoru fuck his gf (fic: so good holy shit. one of my favourite fics ever. suguru is so soft for his girl)

you're fucking your best friends' father (college a.u!! suguru gets jealous and fucks the brattiness out of you. so so good)

social media au w/ your bf geto!! (so cute and funny!! there is a gojo version too!!)

suguru finds you during your 'sad girl bathtub hours' (comfort!!)

squirting shamelessly in his face (dream)

weed dealer! suguru corrupts you (dumbification kink go crazy)

: ̗̀➛ katsuki bakugo x reader

katsuki doesn't understand how attractive he is (drabble: katsuki is so fine but he only has eyes for you)

you blow katsuki while getting his car washed (taylor swift playing omg? so hot)

your kid shows you a beautiful (ugly) drawing, katuski dies laughing (so fucking funny have you seen the similar tiktok!!)

: ̗̀➛ yuuta okkotsu x reader

vampire! yuuta soothes your period cramps... (u know what this means. incredibly written)

: ̗̀➛ BONUS: mikasa ackerman x reader

drug dealer! mikasa (headcanons: a little smutty, gunplay and robbing men)

: ̗̀➛ multiple characters (drabbles)

jjk men as chubby chasers !! (toji, yuuta, gumi + satoru) (fellow chubby girlies you will go crazy for this)

jjk men + halloween costumes (toji, satoru, nanami + suguru) (so funny and accurate!!)

#mha x reader #jjk x reader #bakugou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #megumi x reader

[brain-rot-central]

Up In Smoke

A/N: Basically he smokes weed and has a really good orgasm. That's the whole fic. Very self-indulgent, but whatever. Hope you all enjoy!

Rating: light E Word count: 3.5k Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Fem!Tav Warnings: 18+, dubcon for being under the influence, drug use, alcohol mention, breeding kink, praise kink, male masturbation, mutual pining, trauma mention, intimacy issues

Summary: The gang finally reaches Baldur's Gate. Astarion isn't handling it so well, knowing he's so close to Cazador again. Tav makes an innocent suggestion that he go down to the shops and find something that can help relieve some of his pent up anxiety.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leans over to further inspect the small clear jar within his hands. Inside, a dried cluster of pungent flowers resides. Their faint smell lingers about the small tavern suite. He shakes the jar slightly, following how each bud bounces between the glass.

They've finally made it to Baldur's Gate, and gods what a relief. Not to say he didn't enjoy getting his hands messy, but there was never quite enough he could do to dig out the dirt caked within his nails. He dreamed of soaking in a hot bath for weeks.

Yet, being back in Baldur's Gate also means something more sinister.

It means he’s closer to confronting him.

His old master.

Cazador.

He panics the night before, screaming whenever he'd slip into trance. Horrid memories play behind his eyes. He feels paralyzed within them – the feeling of a hand closing around his neck, a dagger slicing into his back, shackles around his arms and legs, unable to move within the confines of the coffin he lay in for a year.

Tav wakes him eventually, holding him close within their warm embrace. She lulls him back to sleep until he slips into a more peaceful trance. When they awake the next morning, Tav proposes he go down to the shops and look for a sleep aid, or something that could potentially help quell the overwhelming sense of anticipation building within him.

“I only wish for you to be at peace,” she suggests. “You deserve it. Especially now.”

So, he does exactly that.

Perusing the various carts and shops, Astarion inevitably finds an apothecary. He's been to this one before; many, many years ago. He doesn't quite remember the shopkeeper, but feels as if it's the same woman, just now older. 

She's nice enough, giving a warm greeting as he enters the store. The smell of patchouli incense fills his nostrils and almost instantaneously Astarion feels some of the tension melt off his shoulders. 

He explains, in very vague terms, what it is he's experiencing to the shopkeeper. She holds out a glass jar filled with herbs. When he raises a questioning eyebrow, she clarifies, “This is known to help calm even the most fussy of ogres.” She smiles, nudging the jar closer to him. “Go on, take it. You won't regret it.”

With a quick nod of his head, Astarion pays for the herbs and dips out of the shop, stashing the small jar within a pocket of his armor. He reconvenes with Tav and the others; they're to address some sort of problem with a wizard prodigy at Sorcerous Sundries. He sighs audibly as Gale rambles on about the various tomes and wealths of knowledge the store holds. Gale rarely ever lets up when this sort of mood takes him. He briefly wishes he had a scroll of Silence to cast over the wizard.

With the pompous brat slain, the crew returns to the Elfsong Tavern to share a hot meal. Astarion nurses a glass of wine while the others share various plates of grilled meats, vegetables, and fish. Lae’zel offers him the drippings of her steak; he politely declines, though the smell causes his stomach to rumble. He simply chases the sensation away with more wine.

They return to their shared suite within the tavern. The party makes a joint decision that Astarion and Tav share the private room. They aren't the only two having relations, but they are the more… rambunctious couple. Both retire to the bedroom, Tav drawing a bath for herself while Astarion rests on the edge of the bed, as he is now, studying the small glass jar. 

He dares a quick whiff of the herbs, bringing the jar to his face. His face screws up tight, wincing at the offensive odor. “Smells like a godsdamned skunk,” he scoffs. He stares into the jar again.

Fool’s Tongue. 

He’s partaken before at the behest of a client. It was an important brokerage between Cazador and some far-off noble. There wasn’t much choice in the matter for Astarion. But yet, this encounter was a touch better than the others. To this day, Astarion is unsure if it was due to the drug or the man himself. He recalls the comforting embrace of the nobleman with slight fondness. At least the man tried. Not many others did.

Astarion reaches into the small satchel on his hip and pulls out a wooden pipe. He lifted it from Halsin earlier in the evening at dinner. The wood elf becomes soft once drink is involved, making him all the more easy to target. He’ll return it by morning, Astarion promises himself. He may even leave the druid a small token of appreciation for letting him borrow it, should this all work out.

Placing the pipe down onto the comforter, Astarion begins to unlatch his cloak. He lays the jar of herbs down next to the pipe and stands, letting his cape fall to the floor. He works on his armor next, until he’s down to his underthings. Bending down, he begins rummaging through his pack on the floor for his camp clothing. He slips them on, leaving his shirt untucked, and sits back down on the bed.

Astarion picks up the pipe and lays it between pressed-together thighs. It acts as a makeshift support, allowing him to open the glass jar of herbs and retrieve a single nugget. Closing the jar, he places it back down onto the bed, and begins breaking the herbs into smaller pieces to fill Halsin's pipe.

Raising the pipe to his lips, Astarion summons a small flame to the tip of his finger. He stares down the length of the pipe, mustering the resolve to continue. He hears Tav’s voice in his head, as well as that of the old shopkeeper. With a sigh, he brings his finger to the herb, pulling gently on the pipe until it begins to burn.

Smoke fills his lungs a bit too quickly, and he rips the pipe from his mouth. He coughs loudly and a bit dramatically, before finally taking a gasping breath in.

“Astarion!” Tav calls from the washroom. He can hear the sound of water sloshing around in a tub. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, darling!” he calls back. “Not to worry,” he adds in a mumble under his breath, mostly to himself. He surveys the contents of the pipe, bringing the mouthpiece to his lips once more. Again he summons a small flame to the herb, inhaling more shallowly this time as to not scorch the back of his throat.

He holds in the hit, leaning back onto the bed. Outstretching his arms he lets the pipe rest gently on the bed as he blows out the smoke. He coughs softly – better than the first time.

A few moments pass without so much as a sound. Astarion begins to wonder if perhaps the herbs are stale. It isn't until he rolls over that he notices the first sign.

The bed is soft. Inviting. Astarion is acutely aware of how the pillow top envelopes his form. He lays flat on his back again, sighing. His eyes slip closed. An unusual warmth rushes over him, tickling his skin. It feels like he's laying in the sun and suddenly he's transported back to the forest. To the morning after.

He remembers waking up to the morning sunlight bathing his skin. He wakes up slowly, slipping back into his leathers. Tav still sleeps; he moves as swiftly as possible to not wake her. She was beautiful, even then. Naive, yes. He didn't have the best of intentions. But, she was beautiful. And infuriatingly pragmatic.

Another sensation begins to light. Astarion doesn't recognize the feeling right away. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, a surge of heat rushing to his face. He swears his chest thumps with the beating of his undead heart. He stares into the lines of the ceiling, tracing the patterns of wood lining the wall. His eyes fall upon a knot; they slip closed again.

Tav straddles his lap while he lays out on the ground. Astarion’s hands hold her thighs, guiding her hips as she rocks back and forth over him. He travels up the expanse of her abdomen, passing over her navel and up to her swaying breasts. Her hair cascades down her shoulders in loose curls, his gaze continuing upward toward her face. Redded by the blush running across the bridge of her nose, her mouth hangs open in a silent gasp. She meets his gaze through heavy lids.

Astarion feels the flitter of a dormant ember ignite within his lower belly. His back arches off the bed as a gasp slips past his lips. This can’t be what he thinks it is… could it? No, certainly not. He’s surely lost the ability to feel this way without necessity. Without a performance. Without it being a bargaining chip of some kind.

A pulling behind his navel has his hips twitching in response and he feels warmth begin to pool between his legs. Gods, is he…

Aroused?

Is this truly unprovoked arousal that he feels? Astarion sees visions of Tav glistening after a bath; droplets of water sliding down tanned, freckled skin. He moans aloud and again his hips buck. His cock is beginning to stir, each rub against the confines of his leathers having him sliding his hands closer and closer to their waistband. He turns his head toward the direction of the washroom.

Astarion groans as his hand runs over the bulge in his pants and it dawns on him momentarily that it is, indeed his cock hardening at the thought of Tav naked. Her skin flushed from the warm water of the bath, hair wet, nipples pert, hips, thighs, cunt-

He's pulling his pants down quicker than he can manage, letting them pool around his ankles on the floor. He hisses as his fingertips brush the swollen length of his arousal, and he dares a quick glance between his legs. His cock has a reddish hue, similar to after he sups of Tav. It pulsates against his lower abdomen and he cautiously wraps a hand around his shaft.

It's not often he performs acts of pleasure upon himself. Usually his mind cages him off – scolds and berates him until he's too ashamed to continue. But with the influence of the Fool’s Tongue swimming within his consciousness, the voice is silent. The only thing Astarion feels is pleasure. Lust. Want. And openly; he openly wants to pleasure himself. And by the Gods, does it feel good.

He pulls up his shirt with the opposite hand to expose more of his abdomen and takes a few experimental jerks of his length. They're soft and slow; unhurried movements as he bathes in the pleasure rushing over his body. His eyes slip closed as he gives himself over to the sensation, hips bucking up each time his thumb passes his frenulum. Behind his closed lids he sees Tav again, kneeling between his legs, ready to take him within her inviting mouth. He moans wantonly as he focuses for a moment on his tip, trying to replicate the feeling of her suckling the head of him.

The door to the washroom opens, jolting Astarion from his thoughts. He makes no effort to cover himself, but instead waits patiently on the bed for Tav to discover the scene awaiting her. She exits the bathroom, running a towel through her hair, seemingly unaware of what has been occurring during her absence.

“I was thinking maybe we could mingle a bit with the others before calling it a night,” Tav suggests. She stands before the room's mirror, running a hand through her dampened locks. “How does that sound, Astar-” The rest of her sentence dies back in her throat as she observes him laying on the bed. “Oh,” is all she manages; a soft, strangled sound rising up from her chest.

He pants as he looks her over; she's wearing a simple, short beige dress. No brassiere, so her breasts fill the top of the dress naturally. It cinches at the waist with two drawstrings, while the rest flares out. The hem of the dress comes to right above her mid thighs, and Astarion swallows the sudden uptake in saliva pooling within his mouth. His cock twitches in his palm. “Y-you suggested I go to the shops,” he tries to explain. “Find something to help ease my trepidation.”

“I guess it was a success.” Tav replies, stepping closer. “I don't think I've ever seen you like this.”

Astarion catches a true blush rising to her cheeks as she studies him. As she stands before him, the scent of her arousal dances below his nose, and he groans. “It was, very,” he answers. “That d-dress is… nice,” he adds.

Tav smiles, stepping before him. “Is it?” she asks in a sultry tone. She grabs the hem of the dress and begins slowly pulling it up her thighs. “What about it do you like?”

Visions of her riding his lap flood his mind's eye. Astarion tosses his head back as he envisions taking her from behind, against the wall, on the floor – animalistic mating rituals between them both; rough, hard, fast. He can't help but suck in a sharp breath as he opens his eyes again to meet Tav’s gaze. He tries to answer her but no sound comes out.

With a smirk, she climbs onto the bed over him, hovering just above his cock. “What about the dress do you like, Astarion?” Tav reiterates. She's sure to leave her hips as far away from his hand as possible; she's aware of his intimacy issues, how delicate this situation is. She leans over him to place chaste kisses over his forehead. She smiles against his skin as he resumes tugging at himself with soft jerks of his hand.

“The convenience,” Astarion replies in a whisper. His desire is mounting, threatening to burn out of control unless release finds him soon. Tav laughs, and briefly drops her hips over the hand pumping his cock. They both moan as his knuckles brush between her slick, sending Astarion's mind reeling. “You're… you're n-not wearing-”

Tav nips gently at the pale elf’s ears, reveling in the instinctive bucking of his hips into her core. “No, I'm not,” she teases. She feels Astarion shudder beneath her and she licks the shell of his ear, moving quickly down to kiss the underside of his jaw. Tav brushes her center over his fingers again, this time deliberately passing over the tip of him.

He swallows thickly as a gasp escapes his parted lips. As hot as the thought of Tav riding his cock makes him, the shackles of his subconscious are threatening to yank his chain. “I can't, not all the way,” he pleads. Ghastly hands are threatening to enclose around the column of his throat. “Just this, please.”

Tav pulls away from him momentarily, her brow knit in concern. She studies his eyes – ruby red gems hooded over in lust. She nods, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Just this, then,” she says reassuringly.

Astarion sighs in relief and continues stroking himself in earnest, knuckles brushing now and again against her sex. He groans as her arousal mingles with his, slickening the palm of his hand to create a luscious glide. “Gods, how I wish I could,” he groans out.

“Could what?” Tav teases. Her breasts are pushing against his chest as it heaves with labored breath. She returns attention back to his ears, licking along its shell to nip gently at the tip.

Astarion's eyes roll to the back of his head as his body convulses in pleasure. “T-take you,” he admits through a shuddered breath. He twists his hand over the head of his cock in a specific rhythm, pulling a guttural groan from the back of his throat. “I think about it often.”

“Do you?” Tav raises a hand to cup the back of his head. She leans over, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “So do I,” she whispers. “It's not fair, you know. Having experienced you prior. Only to be cut off and denied any more.”

“You're one to talk,” he replies. He stares up at Tav, his mouth hanging agape. “D-do you think it's any easier for me? To want so carnally, only to have to deny myself?” He slides a hand up her thigh to hold her waist, guiding her down onto his core. They both sigh at the sensation as he takes the same hand and now threads it through her hair, pushing their foreheads together. “To see how the others look at you, knowing I cannot yet claim you for myself. It's… maddening,” he breathes against her lips.

Tav sighs. “Yet, here I am… in your lap. And not theirs.” She captures his lips in a chaste kiss, though Astarion surges forward. She slackens her jaw to allow him better access; like a man starved he explores the warm cavern of her mouth, tongue intertwining with hers.

He breaks the kiss with a pull of her bottom lip. “I promise that one day I will,” he speaks against her lips. Astarion pumps himself faster, feeling the coil behind his navel wind tighter. “And when I do, you’re not to leave my bed for days.”

Tav pulls her head back, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Days?” she reiterates, feigning innocence. “Do you wish to mate me, Astarion?” 

His back suddenly arches off the bed, a gasp slipping past his lips. His knuckles brush against her sex again. “Yes,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Fully, properly, lavishly.” He's babbling now. Logic escaping him, replaced by a tempting carpet of depraved carnal lust that threatens to unravel at the seams.

Tav kisses him gently again. “Should I tell you a little secret?” she asks. She doesn't wait for a response before continuing. Sliding her face again to Astarion’s ear, she says quietly, “What if I were to tell you that you already have me?”

He blinks up at her in bewilderment. “H-how would that be?” he stammers. “I've barely done anything. I can hardly touch you without-”

“Because it's you,” Tav explains. “It's you I think of when I'm alone.” She shakes her head. “No one else.”

Astarion rushes forward again, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. “...The Gods truly made you just to ruin me,” he says, pulling away with a huff. He closes his eyes as he twists his wrist over the swollen tip of his length again, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

“Are you close?” She speaks softly to him, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his cheek. “Would telling you how good you are to me help?”

The coil winds tighter in his lower belly at her praise. He hums, cock twitching in his palm, pre-fluid now gathering at his tip. “A-almost,” Astarion stammers again. “M-my ears, touch them again, please.”

With a giggle, Tav dips her head into the crook of his neck, kissing along his skin leading up to his ear. She rubs at his other with her opposite hand, lavishing delicate attention to each of their tips. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are when you reach your peak, Astarion?” she pants into his ear. “The way your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, how your eyes roll to the back of your head.” She watches him throw his head back, his hand picking up speed as he strokes himself. Tav dips her head again to his neck, nipping gently at the exposed column of skin.

“I'm going… if you keep, a-ah,” Astarion insists, breathing ragged. His chest is heaving, the influence of the Fool’s Tongue and overwhelming lust threatening to consume him. He's on the edge, right at the precipice, almost there, just a touch more-

Tav drops her hips over him again and he seizes, hips bucking wilding up to meet her. She latches onto his neck and sucks, hard enough that he knows a mark will be present by morning. Suddenly Astarion is falling over the cliff, mouth dropping open in a drawn out groan. His vision blanks, thick ropes of his release paint his lower belly as he jerks himself through the last of his orgasm.

She kisses the tip of his nose as she climbs off, picking her towel up from off the floor. Astarion lay on the bed panting, the room still spinning around him. As he comes to, he opens his eyes to meet Tav, who holds out the towel to him. “Did that feel good?” she asks, curiously.

He nods before replying, “Quite. I've used Fool’s Tongue before, but it was nothing like this.”

“Hmm,” she hums as he takes the towel from her. “Perhaps I should join you, next time?”

He huffs a quick laugh as he wipes the release of his belly, giving Tav a genuine smile. “That would certainly be something.”

#astarion #fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x fem!tav #my writing #astarion fanfiction #i lied I posted it now

[avtrbee]

love game. i

summary: he has never been a good husband, but a century in captivity might change his mind

pairing: morpheus x love!reader

tw: dark!morpheus hehe, mention of rape is you squint but i kinda emphasized that its not? toxic relationships (?)

a/n: gif aint mine. idk where this is fic going. this is the literal example of head empty, no thoughts just my love for men groveling at my feet. hopefully you like them too

“Where is my wife?” he asked, glancing at Lucienne. “Had she abandoned me too? Surely she has sensed me by now…”

His librarian gives him an uncertain look. “My lord, my lady will only come if you summon her. It has been that way for centuries.”

He looks up the ceiling of his palace. There were holes where the roof has fallen, letting sunshine through the throne room. On the damp corners, weeds had slipped through the pristine walls that he had built. His palace looks like a broken heart, thrown away and abandoned. He wonders if this is what she felt like. “Then I summon I shall summon her.”

You came a few seconds after he had said the words.

Lucienne is the first thing you see. She is standing up straight with her hands behind her back- the perfect picture of formality except on her face was a smile wider than you have seen her in a century. Lucienne does not cry, professionalism forbids her so, but you know that if she could he would have tears running down her face in joy. Her heart tells you so. Lucienne’s heart tells you more- the love for her master who has some back.

She bows to you, and steps aside. You cannot help the relief in your face as you see your husband. You blink twice waiting for him to fade away just to be sure.  “You’re back,” you whisper in awe, walking towards him quickly. “Forgive me for not coming sooner, my lord, I had to make sure.” Your eyes widen a fraction at your mistake. “Not that I doubted you, husband, I-”

You meet his eyes and you halt. “Are you alright?”

The Dreaming stills. Even in its decaying form its realm remembers its master. Not a single dust threatened to fall, and every speck of dust held its breath. “I was captured.” Dream stares at the ground as he speaks. His voice was a quiet rumble with anger evident in his face. 

Captured? You wanted to ask, along with the thousands of questions that bombarded your head. How in the world did an Endless become prisoner? But you held your tongue. Knowing your husband, his pride is wounded and irritable. He is frustrated to retreat to the Dreaming to lick his wounds, and even humiliated that he came back significantly weaker than when he left.

Instead, you swallow the concern down your throat and settled for the sight of him. He looked the same as he had always been, but something has changed. This you are certain. 

“Welcome back, Dream Lord.” You greet with a smile and a small bow. It was a smart statement. No mention of his time in absence or your misplaced concern, only your relief that he is back in the Dreaming. You turn your heel to leave, when he spoke up.

“You’re leaving already?” 

Your eyes snapped back at him suspiciously. From the corner of your eye you see Lucienne exit the room, but you did not dare to take your eyes off the Dream Lord. He has never complained of your departure before. Some days you think he wishes you left as soon as you arrived. “Yes,” you nod. “I have my duties to attend to. You have called and I have come. I have done your bidding.”

“I-” Something passes in his face, like a shadow of sadness. “That is not what I meant.”

You look at him, confused, but smiled and nodded anyway. “Then how can I serve you, my lord?”

The dream lord looks at you like you had caused him pain. “Love,” he says, and you almost flinch in surprise. He had never said your name so gently before. In fact, you realize that this is the first time you have even heard him say your name. You were only ever ‘wife’, never ‘Love’, you were…nothing. “I…I apologize. I have not been a good husband to you.”

Your mind flies back to the wedding you have blessed before he had summoned you. The groom and the bride looked so happy, so in love. With your blessing you knew their marriage would be a successful one, the kind that would last until the end of their lifetime. If only yours were the same.You quickly shook the thought away from your head. You are not the naive girl you once were.

Instead, you shake your head. For a moment, you wonder if he would forgive you for taking a step towards him, but you decided against it after recalling what had happened last time. “You are not a cruel husband, Dream.”

You have seen first hand what cruelty is. Men and women pray to you constantly to make their spouses love them, if only they would stop hurting them. But your husband had never hurt you. He wouldn’t dare. And you would not let him.

He gives you a rueful smile. “Then what kind of husband am I if my wife can’t even take a step towards me?”

You suck up a breath. So he had noticed that. The king of dreams is not cruel, but he is cold. You had tried once, when you were first married. Arranged marriages rarely bared fruit to love, but there were some exceptions if they tried enough. You had greeted him, every day, sat beside him every morning to break your fast, walked along with him despite his obvious annoyance. For a few years you visited his realm everyday, had greeted his mornings with the sweetest kiss and at the end of your night, opened your legs when he saw fit, letting him take you whenever he wanted. But eventually, you have resorted to only come when he calls you. He never calls because he misses his wife. More often than not, he has a command to give and expected you to obey. 

“I realize now that you did not ask for this marriage, and I had forced you into it.” In a surge of courage, he held out his hand silently asking for yours. For the first time in a long time you saw nervousness in his eyes, anxious to see your response. You knew that you had every right to stand still, and no one would fault you for it. But you slowly gave your hand anyway. 

You were surprised to know that your husband’s hand was warm. Had you expected him to feel cold? When was the last time you had even touched him? When was the last time he had touched you?

Relief was splattered in his face. Dark eyes lock with yours as he ever so slowly raised your palm to his lips. “How callous have I been to subject Love to a loveless marriage?”

“You did not force me to do anything,” you insist, eyes locked at your hand on his, at the spot his lips had kissed. “You didn’t wish for this marriage either.”

“But I did not have to be so unkind.” Slowly, he dropped your hand to your side and took a step back. You did not know how to feel at the loss of his touch. “In my cage, I had plenty of time to ponder on the things I have normally ignored. I had often wondered how cruel my captors were for keeping me inside my cage for so long but haven’t I done the same to you?” 

You gulped.

“Have I not made you feel unwelcome in a realm that is yours as much as it is mine by law? Haven’t I made the Dreaming your cage, Love?” He asked, eyelashes touching his cheek.

“My lord,” you say in alarm as you process his words. “The Dreaming is a haven compared to what you’ve went through. The Dreaming is a haven compared to anything.”

It did not go unnoticed by you both that you did not deny Dream’s first statement. The Dreaming has never felt like home to you for it has given you nothing to be tied down to it. Its wonder had never failed to welcome you every time you visit, but you do not stay too long. Home is warmth, and the Dreaming has always been so cold to you. Home is your own realm, an endless pink sky like a never ending sunset across the horizon. 

“Forgive me,” your husband whispers. And to your horror, you watch in shock as the King of Dreams bend down on one knee followed by the other. This time you touch him, not caring about the consequences. You grip his arms and attempt to pull him back up, but he stubbornly remains rooted on the ground. 

Your head whips to the exit Lucienne left at and to any other possible entrances to his throne room. It is simply unheard of to have an Endless kneel to someone who is lower to them. You have never even heard of an Endless kneeling before. Your mind races at the thousand possibilities of who might witness your husband beg. Oh, what if Desire came in- ?

“There is no one here, they’ve all gone away in my absence” Dream says, his voice steady like he wasn’t down on his knees for you. “Lucienne is in her library absorbed in her work. You’re all I have left. You’re all I’ve always had. Forgive me, Love.”

Flashes of forgotten cooked meals, cold nights, deserted company and a millennium worth of loneliness flashes in your mind. You have always been so neglected. Is this it, then? Were you to throw away everything because he learned humility after a century?

“There is nothing to forgive, my lord.” You say, eager to get this conversation over and to have your husband just stand up.

“Morpheus,” he corrects with a sad smile. Your response echoes in his head and he did not need confirmation to know that it was a lie. How are you still so loyal? “Then forgive me anyway.” He compromises on your behalf, even when kneeling. He knew you would deny your lie if he asked. 

“Alright.” 

Your shoulders sag and sigh in sheer relief when Morpheus finally stands back up. You can him from head to toe just to be certain he is well before reminding yourself that your hands are still gripping his leather sleeves. You release them immediately, but he caught you wrists before you could pull away.

You flinch, and his eyes soften in regret. I am not scared, you want to say, I’m just not used to you touching me. 

“Have I made you fear me so?” His grip on your wrists in gentle. If you wanted to pull away he would let you. But you let him hold your wrists at the thought that this might be the last time in a long time you will feel him. Might as well relish in it. “I will do better,” he vows. “I will be kinder, more gentle. I will do right by you this time.”

You tug your wrists away from his grasp slowly. “I must return to the waking world, my lord. My duties await me.”

Lie. You hear no prayers, no human calling for your help.

You’ve seen this trick before. You’ve seen mortal men promise the same sweet things to their wives only for them to hurt them once again. A few pretty words is not enough to erase a millennium of memories. 

You turn your heel and walk out of his throne room. Morpheus lets you. 

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next- love game. ii

#morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus imagine #the sandman imagine #dream of the endless imagine

[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x trans male reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Commission number three! This one got away with me, for sure. Hope you folks enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!!

Content: trans male reader, some afab language to refer to the reader’s lower parts during non-penetrative, oral sex; chest area not mentioned. Kidnapping, some threat to life and mild injury (not from drider), brief mention of blood and stitches. Reader has submissive tendencies, enjoys being restrained, and the drider is gently dominant. 

Wordcount: 10,123(!)

Running headlong into the dark pines that made up the forest which, according to your captors, had acquired such nicknames as the ‘The Bone Garden’, ‘Spectre’s Haunt’, and the ‘Blood Wood’ was probably not the wisest decision you’d ever made, but you’d been held by these thugs for four days of hard riding, and you were ready to risk it all to escape.

Had it really only been four days since you’d locked the door to your tidy little cottage on the edge of the village? With a gleaner’s bag slung over one shoulder and a basket in hand, you’d set out in search of the mushrooms that only grew at this time of year when the conditions were perfect — not hot and dry, not yet frosty, and just rainy enough. They loved the misty turn of the year almost as much as you did.

Without a care in the world, you’d stepped out along the weed-strewn gravel path that led through your herb garden, latched the wooden gate behind you, and meandered through the houses as the sounds of the village waking began to fill the air.

Gwyn had recently lit his forge and the rush of the bellows to stoke the heat reminded you of a dragon’s steady breathing; in and out, in and out. You’d snaked past the bakery just to swipe a fresh cinnamon roll before Garrick or Mercy or any of the woodcutters who also tended to rise early could finish them all off, and the orc behind the counter gave you the biggest one he had and a wink that made you just a little gooey inside yourself. “You’re a shameless flirt, Thom,” you said as you slid your coppers across the counter to him with two fingers.

“Hey, a man can dream, right, gorgeous?”

He was pretty fine himself, but he wasn’t really your type, and you’d made that clear when he’d asked you to dance at the first Spring Equinox dance you’d attended after moving to the village, then just a lowly herbalist’s apprentice. Ever since, you’d fallen into an easy banter of flirting that was destined to go nowhere, and it was harmless fun for both of you. You left the bakery with a smile on your face, and headed past Gwyn’s forge as you made your way north out of the village.

The smith, a colossal centaur with a dapple grey coat and a thick, white mane and tail that made anyone with long hair in the village green with envy, called after you and beckoned you over. “Headed north?” he asked with an uncharacteristic scowl.

“Yeah, why?”

“Take care, alright? Mercy said she’d seen sign of bandits in the area, and Willem said he’d heard talk of people being snatched when he took those fleeces to market last week. You shouldn’t be going out alone. None of us should really, not til things calm down.”

A little growl of frustration left you and you adjusted the gleaner’s bag on your shoulder. “I really need these supplies, Gwyn,” you said. “They’re ingredients I need to help fight off winter fevers, and if I don’t have enough, we could be in trouble come the cold in a few weeks’ time…”

“Can’t you take Garrick or Mercy with you? A good woodsman’s felling axe’ll do a hell of a lot more damage than that little sickle you’ve got on your belt…”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you breezed. “I’m not going to be on the main road anyway.”

“Please take care,” he rumbled, and you smiled up at the enormous blacksmith. He might have had the shoulders of a rock troll and iron-shod hooves big enough to knock down a castle door, with a big burn mark all up his left arm from an accident at the forge a decade ago, but he was the gentlest and most softly-spoken person you knew.

You cursed yourself three hours later when your basket of rare, purple mushrooms lay trampled to a slimy paste on the floor of the clearing and a nasty looking wood elf with a sneer and a cruel glint in her eye had her bow trained on you, while a second elf trussed you up like a solstice bird. Your head was ringing from the surprise blow they’d dealt you to the back of the skull, and you were lucky you didn’t have a worse concussion.

“You’ll make a nice little offering for the mage,” the female elf purred while her companion straightened and marched you on unsteady feet back towards the road. “Humans like you always fetch a decent price. Something about your blood being universal for most rituals, I think…”

There on the dirt road, four horses were waiting, three of which were a normal size while the last was built like a castle wall and large enough to carry the orc sitting astride it. The orc had one milky eye and the brand of a murderer across his right cheek. “Shit,” you hissed when you saw that, and the male elf laughed cruelly when you flinched as the orc swung down and prepared to heave you onto the back of the spare horse.

Normally, if you were going to be tied up and bent over something for some rough treatment, this was not how it went. There was absolutely nothing fun or consensual about the way these bandits chucked you over the back of the horse and lashed your hands and feet to the tack so you didn’t slide off. The orc guffawed and spat off to one side when you cried out on impact as your ribs creaked and your lungs expelled all the air they’d ever contained in one ugly grunt. After that, you did just about everything you could to move with the rhythm of the cantering horse, but it was probably the most miserable experience of your life. When the group slowed to trot, the motion was so painful that you actually slipped into unconsciousness for a while, only to be jounced back some time later.

At the crossroads about ten miles north of your village — the furthest north from your little patch of paradise you’d ever roamed — they met up with a couple of other riders who had apparently been on a recce of their own to look for more people for this blood mage or whoever, but they got laughed at by the orc on his enormous, cantankerous horse for not finding any victims and rode off again without joining the party.

So, it was just you, alone in the wilderness, being taken gods-knew-where, by two feral elf siblings and a murderous orc. Stowed like a sack of potatoes over that rangy, stinking horse for five hours of hellish riding, you were barely conscious. When they eventually stopped to make camp that night, they did let you relieve yourself in relative privacy, but once you were done, they hauled you back to their pack animals and lashed you to a tree next to them so that you couldn’t hope to escape. You could still smell the stink of them though, and it was enough to turn your empty stomach.

Their food was revolting, and their company equally repulsive. They joked loudly about all the cruel things they’d done to people in the past, and you sat there wondering why you hadn’t let Gwyn talk you into going out with the woodcutters. There were mushrooms where they were currently coppicing hazel for the winter, but no. No, you’d decided to be adventurous and clever, and to collect only the best mushrooms for your salves and tonics.

Four days later, you were almost ready to give up.

The mage’s castle they were taking you to was legendary in the northern reaches, and no one who was taken there against their will ever returned. Tales of blood magic and horrific rites involving chimera and creatures brought back from the dead had entered the local lore, and now apparently you were going to be drained of your precious blood for whatever this necromancer had planned next. And the price of that precious blood had been discussed and debated by the bandits for the last day.

Personally, you agreed with the female elf and thought you were worth more than a couple of weeks’ wages in gold, but you had no intention of allowing yourself to be squeezed dry like an orange for your blood. So, after the group stopped in a dark and snow-mottled pine forest after the fifth day of hard riding, you enacted your plan. You’d been plotting it all day, and hoped you weren’t too delirious and weak to pull it off.

When they’d let you relieve yourself the previous night, they’d not bothered to tie your hands together or watch you, since there was nowhere for you to go. You knew woodlands though, and you were pretty confident that if you gave them the slip in the dark, you could take care of yourself in the wild for a few days. Long enough to get back home anyway.

So when they started their daily round of bragging and trading boasts about how many vampires they’d killed or how they’d survived the venom of three different nagas in the same attack, you made your move.

If that darned twig hadn’t snapped, you might have got away with it, but when the male elf barked, “Oi!” into the gathering dark and swung his lantern around, you knew you’d messed up.

Breaking cover completely and legging it into the endless ranks of black-barked pine trees in the fading light of day seemed like the only option now, so you began crashing through the debris and dead branches that had gathered beneath the choking canopy of dense pine needles overhead. 

These woods were different from any you’d known before, and something dark and foreboding lingered there like a shade above a gravestone. These woods were not kind. The air was not fresh and sweet like it was between the beech and oak back home. It pooled and festered, stagnant between the rough sentinel trees, and the lower branches seemed to reach their sharp, bare fingers towards your face as you ran like a rabbit from the pack of hunting dogs behind you.

Your toe caught a root and you stumbled, and in the space where your head had just been, an arrow whizzed through the air and sank into the tree ahead of you with a thunk that almost made your heart stop. Your lungs were burning already and your legs felt shaky and weak after your rough treatment and half-rotten rations, but a brush with death that close shocked you to the core. The water they’d given you had been rancid, and your stomach churned as adrenaline curdled in your gut, but somehow you forced yourself on into the darkness.

Their voices dwindled, muffled by the carpet of fallen pine needles, until a shout went up and another arrow flew past you. This time, it left a searing pain in its wake and you clutched at your ribs where the hunting broadhead had torn through your skin. Luckily, it was superficial, but it hurt like hell and it was bleeding. Blood might draw predators out of the darkness, if your blundering and their bellowing hadn’t already.

Shit, you hadn’t thought about the horrors that probably dwelled in a place like this.

The bandits had been crowing about the ghouls and rabid cannibals that supposedly haunted these woods, and you’d passed plenty of skeletons along the roadside on your journey, your down-turned head providing you with a first-class view of them as your half-lame horse had jolted past them at its permanent, slightly-panicked jog. They hadn’t all been pack animals and horses lying in the ditch either. Some of the skulls had been humanoid, and there had been the horns of a minotaur at some point. This was a place where living things entered unwillingly, and most of them never left.

Forcing yourself onwards, you clutched your stinging side, but they were closing on you. The orc was thundering through the forest like a boar on a rampage, and the elves were quick as shadows.

“You little shit!” the female shouted from right behind you. Something heavy hit you across the back of your knees and you tripped and fell hard onto your palms as a flung tree branch rebounded off onto the forest floor. The force of the fall sent your cheek smashing into the muddy ground and you cried out as she landed triumphantly atop you and turned you over, smacking you full in the mouth out of sheer frustration.

“Gotcha,” she grinned. “You’re gonna pay for running, little rabbit,” she added with a laugh as she hauled you to your feet.

You kicked her knee from the side as hard as you could and she yowled like a cat dropped into a bath, letting go of you to stagger sideways, limping. The thing about being a healer is that you also know the weak spots where it can hurt most.

Before she could turn on you again though, something moved in the trees behind you and you all froze. The orc crashed to a halt nearby breathing hard, and the elf’s brother came over to help her stand while she spat curses at you that would have made a pirate’s ears bleed.

“What is it?” the orc growled, low and tense.

“Fuck knows. Tie him up again and let’s get the fuck back to camp,” the female elf wheezed. “I’m gonna drag him behind my horse for the rest of the way there. Shit that hurts!”

“Quiet,” her brother hissed. “Something’s out there.”

“Then let’s get fucking moving!” she countered.

You turned to glance over your shoulder and caught the shape of something white drifting in the distant trees just as the orc spotted it too. His grip tightened on the haft of his huge war-axe, and he took half a step back. Until then, he’d been the one who’d seemed steadiest; unshakable and immovable as a cannon, and he hit just as hard. Now though, he looked spooked and scared.

“They say the Death-Spinner hunts in these parts,” he said, eyes wide as he looked from side to side. “A massive white drider that strikes from the shadows and wraps you up in his web and sucks you dry…”

“It’s been too long since someone sucked you dry,” the female elf sneered at him, though the remark came out feebly and she looked around her in a twitchy, nervous motion. “Your blue balls are making you hallucinate. Come on. What are you waiting for?”

“He’s got other names too, you know,” her brother interrupted, reaching for you with a jerky movement that halted when the steady rhythm of something moving nearby rose above the whispering of the wind in the canopy. “Soul-Eater, The Weaver Ghost…”

“Please, the Death-Spinner is just a myth…” the female on your right hissed.

“Decidedly… not,” came a thin, harsh voice from the trees ahead, and your captors just bolted.

The supposedly tough bandits – the ones who had been talking about selling an actual person to a bloodmage to use in some disgusting ritual; who had joked just the previous night about flaying a minotaur like a cow on a butcher’s block; who had told you that there was nothing out here that would give a single, flying fuck about you – had fled with no more than a shriek and the clatter of boots in the dead underbrush, and left you alone with the being they called ‘Death-Spinner’.

“Better and better,” you spat, still tasting blood in your mouth from where the elf had cracked you across the mouth. “First it was ‘sold to a blood mage’ and now it’s ‘death by drider’.”

A pearlescent pale leg speared down out of the gloom that gathered between the black pines, its ivory chitin shining softly. Shaped like a thin, curved shard of polished bone, the limb moved with slow, silent grace, and it was joined by a second, needle-slender limb, then a third and a forth, until the white underbelly of the creature loomed large into your limited pool of light, followed finally by the lower part of a humanoid torso, and the large, armour-plated abdomen of the creature.

The whole of the eight-legged being was utterly colourless.

White and pendulous as the moon, the drider’s chitinous body looked like drifts of wind-blown snow that had then set into solid ice, swirling and churning across its body to rise in small peaks and troughs at the joints and high points of its legs and over the swollen curve of its abdomen.

The humanoid torso melted upwards at the hips from the body of the spider, and two, smaller, pincer-like limbs — pedipalps — were angled slightly inwards, both ending in single, wicked talons and looking like they were ready to spear you through the middle in the blink of an eye.

The drider wore no clothes, and patches of white chitin formed a kind of armour up its humanoid torso: over the hips but skirting around its lean belly, then up over its shoulders like pauldrons and creating natural bracers and gauntlets along its long, wiry arms. Its hands, you saw as it dipped a little lower into the faint glow from the elves’ abandoned lantern, were clawed, but its slightly curved talons weren’t like those of a mammal. They were simply an unbroken extension of the chitin that covered its hands and forearms.

Its face remained mostly out of sight, wreathed in the upper shadows of the trees, but you got the impression of two reddish eyes glinting at you in the dark, and long, silk-white hair flowing down its back.

“You’re bleeding,” came the slightly hoarse tenor that made your skin prickle. A creature that large should have a deeper voice, but the mellifluous timbre of the drider’s tone made you think of sirens luring sailors to their death with sweet songs and empty, deceitful promises.

“Only a bit,” you choked out, stepping back and catching your heel on the branch that the female elf had used to trip you. When you fell hard onto your backside, you caught the glint of steel in the sea of rust-red pine needles all around you, and realised that one of the elves had dropped their precious sword in their haste to escape this creature.

In a rush of blind panic, you snatched up the unfamiliar weapon and held it aloft. “Stay back!” you barked.

The laugh that rippled out of the drider chilled your blood.

“Please,” it crooned, and then it loomed down out of the shadow and into the light, squinting its two scarlet eyes against the sudden brightness. “As if a little stick like that could hurt something like me.”

The sword fell from your fingers as weakness washed through you, and you bit back a sob. “Please,” you said instead. “Please, they brought me here to sell me to a necromancer, but I… I don’t want to die like this either.”

“Die?” the drider said, and its red gaze flickered to the wound in your side. “You won’t die from that. A few silk stitches and a rest, and you’ll be good as new…” It frowned again, its white eyebrows pulling in like a loose thread in a perfect tapestry. “You’re filthy,” it said, and you noticed a diagonal scar cutting across its pale mouth as its lip pulled up on one side in a gesture of revulsion.

“Yeah, well, you try being thrown over the back end of a bandit’s horse for five days and see if you’re still that pretty at the end of it,” you retorted, exhaustion making you bold and just a little bit stupid.

The drider laughed, the sound like autumn leaves rolling down the road, and you paused. It sounded genuinely amused.

“Come, human,” it said, holding out a clawed hand. “Let’s get you somewhere where you can rest in safety.”

“Safety? What… What about… all that ‘Death-Spinner’ stuff?”

The drider paused, its huge body hanging in the twilight like a pearl. “I have no interest in consuming sapient creatures, but the rumours help to keep people out of my forest. It’s as much for their safety as mine,” it went on. “There are nastier things even than me in these parts.” The self-deprecating venom in its tone drew you up short.

“You don’t seem so bad…”

“Thank you,” it replied with flat sarcasm.

You took three more steps towards the drider before your legs gave out. In a flash faster than thought, the drider darted at you, and before you could even flinch, strong, armoured arms had caught you and lifted you up.

“You poor thing,” it crooned, and you looked up properly into its face for the first time. “You’ve really been through it, haven’t you? Easy now. I’ll take care of you.”

“Why?” you breathed, trying not to let your treacherous muscles relax into the solid frame that held you. You felt the chitin of its chest against your shoulder as it bore you along in a strangely smooth, gliding motion, the dark trunks of the trees whipping past in a blur.

“Evidently I have a soft spot for brave and lost creatures,” the drider smiled. “My name is Feluän, by the way.”

You exhaled your own name in return, and then said, “Isn’t Feluän an elven name? Some prince or something…?”

“You know your history,” the drider chuckled. “Yes, he was a prince of the snow elves a long time ago. I came across it in a history book I picked out of a caravan that was destroyed by a band of gnolls once. Their tastes run more towards beer than books…”

“I chose my own name too,” you said, the consonants feeling thick and slurred as the tiredness seeped throughout your whole body and the pain in your side mounted. “You’re a male drider then? If you named yourself after a prince, I mean. I don’t know anything about your kind really. Never… Never met one before.”

“Hush for now,” he said, squeezing you a little more tightly into his arms and drawing a moan unbidden from your lips. Gods, even in these circumstances, it felt so good to be held like this. “But yes, I am.”

The journey through the dark forest passed in a hazy blur, until you had the vague impression of torchlight and soft firelight and you were laid down on the softest surface you thought you'd maybe ever touched in your life. A long, deep groan left you and you suddenly didn’t care what happened to you.

“I’m going to stitch you up,” came the drider’s voice from somewhere nearby. “It might hurt. I can use a little of my venom to numb the area if you like…”

You nodded, not wanting any more pain, and out of the corner of your eye, you watched the drider’s white body move in the blurry shadows of the cave. He loomed over you and pressed the tip of one clawed finger to his upper canine, before bringing it to your side where he’d hitched up your shirt just enough to access the glancing wound from the arrow. A blissful numbness crept like winter ice across your skin, and you let the drider tend to you.

Tiredness claimed you not long after, but you had the distinct impression of a warm cloth being wiped gently across your face and hands before blackness washed in and you slept.

Over the course of the next few days, Feluän tended to your wound, and you forgot to be afraid of the strange creature. Centaurs had always held a fascination for you, with their animal lower halves and their humanoid upper bodies, and the way the drider moved was no less fascinating. When he wasn't tending to you, he was weaving linen and silk into the most wondrous bolts of fabric. His cave was dotted here and there with trinkets that he’d clearly pilfered from the sporadic ‘visitors’ to his part of the world, but aside from that, the cave was just that: a grotto carved out of a rise in the ground in the middle of a dank, desolate forest.

“You live alone?” you asked on the first evening you felt strong enough to get out of bed without his help. Until then, he’d forced you to stay still, and honestly, you’d been only too happy to let him boss you about and carry you around. He was sweet, but he didn't take no for an answer, and he didn’t let you wheedle your way out of anything either. Your best ‘puppy-dog’ eyes had crumbled his iron resolve a bit though, and finally he’d let you get out of his soft, cosy bed to join him by the gentle light of flames in the fire pit at the centre of his cave.

Feluän nodded. “Yes. I have spent my whole life alone. Driders are not sociable with each other by nature, and most people fear us too much to want us anywhere near them, as you saw yourself when your captors realised I was there.”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” you said as you took the carved wooden cup he offered you. It had some kind of sharp, pine-needle tea in it and he looked embarrassed that that was all he could offer you to drink apart from water. In the few days you’d been there, you’d had some kind of game broth which, while nutritious, hadn’t been particularly flavoursome. “I didn’t think I’d find anyone out here more intimidating than that orc, but you managed it.”

Across the fire, his ruby red eyes glittered and he laughed, tilting his head in your direction. He didn’t always meet your eye, you realised, and you wondered if his albinism affected his eyesight. “I live to serve,” he purred.

“The way you behave, I’d say you live to be served, but what do I know?”

Again, he laughed. “You offering, little human?” he said, cocking a white eyebrow in a way that made you feel a little dizzy.

“I might, if the rewards for service were worth it,” you replied archly, sipping the sharp tea. Its flavour reminded you of the tinctures you brewed at home, and of the people who would need you as the autumn drew to a close and winter began to coil around the edges of the village. Your shoulders dropped, and you sighed, steam from the cup swirling in front of your eyes for a moment.

“You clearly don’t think I could offer you much,” he said dryly.

“It’s not that,” you said. “It’s… I have a responsibility to the people in my village. I’m a herbalist, and the whole reason I was captured was because I was out looking for ingredients that would help fight winter fevers. If I don’t get home before the snows settle in, they’ll suffer.”

He shifted his weight where he was resting casually with all his long, spiny limbs tucked close to his pendulous body, and you realised he was feeling uncertain. “It must be nice,” he began in a new, faltering voice that you’d not heard from him before. “Nice to have people… who need you. Who… Who look to you for protection…”

You laughed softly and shook your head. “I wouldn’t say I provide any kind of protection — you want an orc or a centaur like Thom or Gwyn for that — but I help people where I can, and they’ve been good to me. I was apprenticed with their previous healer, and when he passed, I took on his mantle.”

“Tell me about them?” Feluän asked, red eyes blinking slowly in his frost-pale face. His long, white hair fell down loose to frame his high cheekbones, and the scar on his mouth was the only element in his face that interrupted the otherwise perfect symmetry of him, and it made you want to press your lips to it and see what it felt like beneath your kisses.

You looked away.

“Tell me about them before I take you back tomorrow?”

“Wait, take me back? You’re coming too?”

“You’ll never make it out of these woods alive without me,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t go to all this effort to keep you alive just to turn you loose for the ghouls and shadow wraiths to tear you to pieces when the sun sets tomorrow night.”

“Shadow… wraiths?” you croaked, eyes flitting to the cave entrance where the dark night pressed in against the tiny light of the fire. You shuddered and Feluän smiled to reveal his double set of canines, the larger, outer pair of which were actually hollow fangs that could inject his paralytic venom into his prey.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he said with a rumbling, seductive purr in his tenor that went right through you to your core. “I’ll protect you. You’re safe here anyway. It’s warded.”

“Right.”

“Your people?” he prompted, and you started with Gwyn the dappled centaur. By the time you’d listed almost everyone in the village, your mind was slow and your eyes gritty with sleep. 

Some time earlier, Feluän had moved behind you so that you were resting your weight between his lethally-taloned pedipalps, buttressed up on either side by something that could skewer through you in the blink of an eye, and his hand had recently moved to card idly through your hair.

The world tilted slightly as you dozed off halfway through a sentence about Thom the orc who ran the bakery and made the most incredible fruit pies in autumn, and you realised that Feluän had picked you up again and was carrying you towards his wide, soft bed of silk webbing.

As he drew a feather-filled silk duvet up around your ears and you hummed with deep satisfaction, you heard him murmur, “I wish I could live somewhere like the place you described for me tonight. I wish I could know ‘home’ as you do, but I fear I would never be welcome somewhere like that.”

“They’d love you,” you mumbled. After all, you were half in love with him already and it had only been a few days.

The journey south took about a week. On the first day, you were forced to ride on his back after only a few miles due to the lingering ache in your side. “If you don’t get aboard, I will refuse to take you anywhere at all,” he said sternly, and a thrill of heat shot down your spine at the steel in his tone. “Do as you’re told, human.”

“Fine,” you croaked, ignoring just how much you liked the way he seemed to mingle concern, respect, and command in a single sentence. “Bossy.”

You did enjoy having your arms around his middle as you rode behind him though. And he was quick when he got scuttling along. 

Your pride did have you walking the next day, and before too long, you got to see the ‘Death-Spinner’ in action. In the rocky lower slopes of the pine forest, before it melted into a dewy, autumn meadow, a roar shattered the silence and a bear reared up from the thick grass, as surprised by your exit from the trees as you were by her.

Feluän hissed like a snake and immediately drew himself up, lashing out with his long front legs. Like twin swords, the lowest section of his legs flashed in the misty air and the bear threw herself up onto her hind legs with another bellowing roar.

The drider jabbed at her faster than your eyes could follow, nicking her ear and her shoulder in turn with left and right forelegs, his huge body filling the space between you and the threat like a bulwark. The bear turned on the spot and thundered away, and he dropped silently back to all eight legs and looked down at you. In the starker light of the meadow, he was squinting and his red eyes didn’t quite land on your face.

“Are you alright?” he asked, bare marble chest heaving. His clawed hands were curled at his sides and his arms looked incredible, and suddenly it was very hard to focus on anything but how gods-damned beautiful this creature was. He barked your name and lowered himself down, still squinting. “I can’t see very well in full daylight like this. I need you to tell me if you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you croaked at last, trying to swallow your inconveniently-timed arousal. “Are you? I’ve lived in the woods a long time, but I’ve never been that close to a bear before.”

“She really didn’t want to tangle with me,” he laughed, and you caught the way his articulated joints sagged in relief as his white hands found your shoulders and he squeezed you tightly for a second.

“You can’t see very well? What do you mean?”

He smiled sadly and let go of you. “As I understand it, people born like me, without pigmentation, often struggle with their vision, and bright sunlight in particular. I do anyway. Why do you think I chose the darkest place I knew of for my home?”

“I… I hadn’t really thought about it. You sure you want to be out here then? You didn’t have to walk me all the way home you know?”

“I want to,” he said, gesturing for you to continue on your way across the open meadow.

The overnight frost had melted a little, but it still lingered at the foot of the thicker tufts of grass and it crunched softly as you walked through it. Not Feluän though — he moved as silently as his spectral nickname suggested, but you did catch him tilting his head a little and inhaling, as though scenting the wind. His lips parted softly and you caught your best glimpse yet of his double set of canines. His tongue shifted a little behind his teeth, as though he was tasting something on the air, and you looked away. Everything about him was sensuous and it made you want to touch.

You were perhaps a day’s walk from the village now, but he still hadn’t turned back even though you’d told him you could manage alone from there.

That night at camp, you sat together as you had back in his cave, with you resting between the two smaller limbs that jutted out from his spider’s shoulder area. They twitched from time to time as he ate the now-roasted rabbit he’d skewered earlier for dinner with the talon at the end of one of them, and when you’d finished your meal, you reached out without thinking and ran your fingers down the chitin that covered them.

He jumped slightly and then went very still, but as you brought your hand closer to where the limb met his chest, he drew in a shuddering breath that made his whole body rock.

“Does that tickle?” you asked, wondering how much sensation he had with all that natural armour.

“Not exactly,” Feluän rasped. “It’s… It’s been a while since I’ve… since anyone’s — ah…” he gasped and his chest heaved. The little bone he’d been idly cleaning with his tongue dropped from his fingers to land in the carpet of beech and oak leaves around your feet.

“You want me to stop?”

“No,” he replied immediately. “Gods, don’t you dare stop.”

“Alright.”

You stood and faced him, and ran both hands up his ‘hips’ at the base of his humanoid torso. He shuddered again and sucked in another sharp breath. Gradually, you moved your touch up over the marble contours of his abs and ribs until you could reach no higher. “Come down here then,” you said quietly.

His scarred upper lip twitched and he surged down towards you, snatching you up in his hands and lifting you away from the fire. He pinned you against the smooth bark of a nearby beech trunk, and held you there four or five feet off the ground. His hands were secure around your waist as the spears of the two pedipalps lanced into the tree on either side of your face and you gasped, feeling heat rushing to your groin.

“The things you make me want to do to you, human,” he purred around a snarl, red eyes glowing in the night. His huge body was pale, standing out starkly against the darkness, and you felt a familiar, tingling weakness washing through you as he held you pinned there and growled those lustful words into your ears. You wanted him to take control. You wanted to submit to whatever pleasures he had in mind. It made your head go vague.

“What’s that then?” you slurred softly, dangling blissfully in his hold. “What do you want to do to me?”

“I want to tie you up with my silk,” he said, leaning in so he could kiss up your neck. He nipped at you, but not enough to break the skin or inject you with his numbing, paralytic venom. The trail his kisses left was cold though, and your flesh tingled. “I want you trussed and immobile for me while I give you every pleasure I can think of. Your body is so soft compared to mine. So vulnerable. I want it all. I want all of you.”

“You can,” you smiled. “Please.”

His lips twitched into another little snarl and he kissed you again. Your tongue tingled and you swallowed, realising a drop of his venom had landed there. “I can’t,” he said, stepping back and lowering you slowly to the ground. Your knees were too weak to take your weight at first and he steadied you.

“Why not?” Disappointment stung through the creeping haze in your head and helped to clear it a bit.

You glanced along his curved, spider’s abdomen and saw that a clear fluid was dripping slowly from a point on his underbelly. His obvious arousal looked obscene, and your core tightened at the sight of it. When he saw where you were looking, he shivered. “That’s what you do to me,” he croaked. “But I’ve lost too much control of myself tonight. I might hurt you.”

“Kiss me again?”

“No. My mouth is full of venom.”

Your breath caught and you bit your lip. “Please?”

“No.” He sounded angry now, and you looked away, ashamed of still wanting something he didn't want to give. When he saw the expression on your face though, his whole demeanour changed and he softened. “What is it?” he asked.

You shook your head, stepping back. “Forget it. You’re going home again tomorrow anyway. You’ll forget about me in no time.” But you wouldn’t forget about him.

Feluän’s lighting-fast reflexes left you breathless all over again as he snatched for your wrist when you turned away from him. “I will never forget you,” he hissed fiercely. “I can’t. You think I give every lost wanderer I find in my forest a personal escort home? If I had my way, I’d never leave your side again.”

The grip he had on your wrist was tight enough that it was just shy of painful, and you gasped, eyelids fluttering. You glanced down at where his claws were pricking into your skin and then slowly raised your gaze to his face. “Not helping…” you smirked softly.

He closed his eyes slowly and eased his grip just a fraction, and then he opened his eyes again, moved both hands to your face, cupped your jaw, and kissed your forehead. “Best I can do for the moment,” he said apologetically.

“You don’t have to go back, you know?” you said, giving voice to the idea that had been floating around your mind for a few days. “I mean, I know all your stuff is back there, but there’s a really cosy place that’s only a hundred yards or so from my cottage on the edge of the village. I think it would be perfect for you. You could… You could live there? If you wanted…”

Feluän raked his claws gently across your scalp and you shuddered. “And what of the rest of the village? What would they say about a monster taking up residence in their midst?”

“You’re not a monster,” you hissed, grabbing for his wrists and clinging to him while you glared up into his face. Gods, he was so beautiful, with his sharp features and red, gemstone eyes and his silver-white hair. “You’re not. How could they not love you once they got to know you?”

His throat worked and he lowered his spider body down, drawing his legs in so that he was as close to your eye level as he could get. “Do you really want me to stay?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please. I — The thought of you going back to that horrible place with all those bones scattered everywhere, and no life — there’s no life in those woods, Feluän. It’s —” He silenced you with a kiss.

Your lips turned numb almost immediately but you felt his tongue brush yours as he growled and reared over you, overpowering you with just his presence. “The way you said my name,” he said. “No one’s ever spoken my name before. Say it again. I want to hear you say it again.”

“Feluän.”

“When we’re not camping in a forest, I’m going to take you apart, my beautiful human. I’m going to tie you up and take you to pieces when my mouth isn’t dripping with venom.”

“Could be fun for you to have your way with me while I can’t move…” you said.

“You wouldn’t be able to feel it either,” he said, deliberately moving away from you and breathing hard. “Gods, I’m a mess,” he chuckled. You glanced down and saw that he was leaking a little webbing too from the gland at the tip of his abdomen.

“So am I,” you said wryly, because you absolutely were.

“I know. I can smell it,” he said. “Taste it too.”

“Fuck,” you groaned. He’d smelled it earlier as well then, back in the meadow after he’d protected you. “You’d better live up to your promise, Feluän. I’m not letting you go home without feeling some of that silk around my wrists first.”

“Say my name again and I’ll give you anything you want.”

Getting to sleep that night proved difficult to say the least, but it helped that you both talked quietly, with you lying in his arms again, and when you woke to the gentle caress of his knuckles against your cheek, you blinked your eyes open and smiled up at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, awestruck by the creature looming over you. Honest delight lit up his whole face and he laughed quietly, helping you to your feet and brushing the dry leaves from your clothes and the borrowed cloak he’d lent you.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked as you kicked the cold ashes of the fire apart and made sure you left the forest as you’d found it. “You said we’re within a day’s walk of your home now?”

You nodded. “We’ll probably meet a few of the woodcutters on our way in — they’re working about three or four miles from the village at the moment, cutting hazel for fences and ash for firewood. If we meet anyone, let me do the talking?”

Feluän agreed, and you set off along the main road together.

“I’ll introduce you in the village if you like, and explain where I’ve been, and then I’ll say I’d like you to stay. If… If you want to.”

“I do,” he said. “I don’t have anything in that cave that I would particularly miss, but I could still go back and fetch it if I wanted to.”

The first people you met were indeed Garrick and Mercy, and when the satyr and the half-orc-half-elf saw the drider, they hefted their axes in their hands and stepped warily into the clearing they’d made beside the road. Mercy spotted you and called out your name, and you and Feluän held up your hands.

It took some persuading to let the two of you approach, but when you were close enough, Mercy dropped her axe and hugged you. “We’ve been so worried,” she said, squeezing you tight. With her muscles, it was enough to make you wheeze. “Gwyn and Thom and Gale searched for you for days but even Gale’s werewolf nose lost your scent when it rained. Gods, they’ve been beside themselves.”

“I’m only alive because of Feluän,” you said, gesturing to the pale drider who was waiting on the road. All his eight legs were drawn up tight and he looked tense and wary. At that distance, and in the clear, wintry light, you suspected he also couldn’t see very far, and for someone so powerful, he was probably feeling quite vulnerable. “I’d like him to live here with us. He was living alone in that dark forest, and I don’t think anyone should have to live alone like that. Not if they don’t want to.”

Garrick jutted his small tusks and said, “Driders aren’t exactly sociable creatures. What’s he gonna do around here?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” you said a little defensively. “While I was recovering in his care, he was processing and spinning flax and weaving bolts of cloth, so he could help Rowan, but I don’t think his place here should be determined by what he can do for us, do you?”

Garrick’s eyes darkened with shame, and he shook his head.

“I’ll catch up with you later. Right now, all I want is a bath and a change of clothes.” Your own shirt had been washed while you’d been recovering, and Feluän had stitched it up, but it was still stained with your blood and more than a bit travel-worn now.

The approach to the village was deserted, but when you stepped out from the shady road and into the brilliant, afternoon sun that bathed the thatched houses in stark light, Feluän grunted and closed his eyes, shielding them with one hand and wincing.

“You alright?” you asked.

“It’s so bright,” he rasped. “I… I can’t even see you and you’re right next to me.”

You paused and said, “This way. We’ll take the side road and go along one of the deer paths through the trees to the cave home I’ve got in mind for you. You can meet everyone tonight when the sun’s gone down.”

“I’m sorry.”

Shaking your head, you frowned. “No, Feluän. You have nothing to be sorry for. Let’s go.” You laid your hand on his foremost left leg, and changed direction, heading for the tall oak and beech trees that bordered the village.

You passed by your cottage, though you did point it out to him, and continued up the slope to the small, rocky outcrop where the old cave had sat empty since its previous occupant had moved to be nearer to her relatives. “This used to belong to Dinara,” you said. “She’s a dwarf, but the cave isn’t at her scale, don’t worry.”

He laughed, and now that you were in the shade, you noticed that his eyes were meeting yours again, and he wasn’t squinting so much. “Come here,” he said, and he lowered himself down to kiss you. “Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

“If it’s not, I know people will help you alter it. They helped me build my house when I moved here, so you could always just build something new if it doesn’t suit.”

“You make them sound like good people,” he smiled.

Squeezing his hand, you said, “They are. They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“So long as they don’t try to hack me to bits with their axes… The one you called ‘Garrick’ sounded ready to cut my legs off earlier.”

“He’s protective, not unlike you,” you said wryly. “Come on. Let me show you the cave and see if you want to live there or not.”

“If you’re nearby, it’ll be perfect,” he said smoothly, and you immediately tripped, making him laugh.

In the end, the empty cave house suited him perfectly, and, as you’d predicted, people were wary to start with, but when they heard how he’d saved you and taken care of you, and brought you home, they welcomed him like a long-lost relative — something that clearly moved him deeply. He did bristle when Thom swept you up into his bone-crushing, baker’s arms outside the village inn that night and nuzzled his tusks against your neck and expressed just how worried he’d been about you though.

When you returned to Feluän after Thom had set you down and promised you a week’s worth of free pies and cakes, Feluän was prickly and distant, until you grabbed a hold of his pedipalp and refused to let go as he turned. The moonlight flashed along the polished chitin and the limb straightened as he turned away while you held it, but he twitched back to look at you with his red eyes blazing quietly.

“Feluän…?” you purred. Oh, you liked the way he clearly wanted to be possessive of you but was forcing himself to behave. It made you flush hot all over.

“What?” he hissed, still scowling.

You caressed your hand up the limb to his shoulder and splayed your fingers wide. He gasped.

“You promised me something…”

“What was that?” he said, spreading his legs a little wider, as though he needed the extra stability to brace himself upright all of a sudden. You enjoyed seeing that the effect you had on each other was mutual.

You drew back your hand from him and he rocked forwards as if seeking the contact again. You brought your wrists together and held them out as though waiting to be tied up before looking up into his face.

His white eyelashes fluttered and his red eyes rolled closed for a moment. “Where?” he asked in a whisper. “Where do you want to go?”

“I’m not sure you’ll fit easily in my cottage…”

“You’d be surprised,” he said, “But I’ll take your word for it. I don’t have any furnishings in my new home yet.”

“You can sling me a silk hammock,” you said boldly and he groaned audibly. “You like that? You like the idea of me lying on your silk?”

He choked softly and nodded, jaw working.

“What?”

“I’m trying to keep my venom to myself this time,” he said carefully. “If I don’t let it out, I can put my mouth wherever I want to this time.”

“And where’s that?”

“Let me tie you up and you’ll find out,” he snarled, baring his double canines, patience fraying.

“Take me home then,” you whispered.

He picked you up, letting you loop your legs around his humanoid hips and holding you there with his arms and his two pedipalps while he scuttled away from the village and up the hill to the cave where an oil lamp was already burning softly on a shelf. 

The cave wasn’t so much a cave as a rock-hewn home, with an additional masonry front covering the opening from the elements, and stone shelves cut into the rock inside for storage, and a shelf at the back for a bed and a huge stone bath as well. Spring water was plumbed directly into a copper cylinder for hot water beside a fireplace with a chimney built into the mountainside. It was a vast improvement on his former, tunnel-like home in the forest, and someone had brought up a load of firewood for him.

Before he’d left his new home to greet the rest of the village earlier that evening, Feluän had lit a fire in the grate and it had since filled the space with warmth, driving away the lingering damp of disuse, and as he made his way on his long, skittering legs to the back of the cave, you kissed the chitin of his shoulders and watched the firelight lick along the sculpted shape of his natural armour. He shivered and then rose right up, tucking his abdomen under him and slinging a web across the shelf where the mattress would be when you eventually found him one. For now, a low, secure hammock of web would more than suffice.

He pitched you back onto it and you bounced softly while the drider’s huge body filled the air above you. The power and ‘otherness’ of his body made you hot beneath the skin and set your core burning, and you squirmed softly while he lowered himself down around you, all four right limbs braced on the wall to your left to give him the best angle. It was unnatural and eerie and creepy and wonderful and strange and everything you wanted in that moment, so you raised your hands above your head and crossed your wrists invitingly.

“You’re so good for me,” he purred and you arched upwards. The web hammock was substantial enough that you didn't feel in the least like your bodyweight was going to tear through it, but it left you feeling exposed and at his mercy. He undressed you carefully, his claws peeling the fabric back until you were as naked as he was. His spider’s body twitched and that clear fluid dripped down onto your shin, betraying his own arousal even as your own was made all the more evident to him.

He parted your legs with one clawed hand and carefully pressed the heel of his palm against where you were soaking wet. “Look at you,” he smiled, eyes glinting. “I can smell you. I can’t wait to taste you properly.” Then he licked his hand clean and your brain went blank for a moment as you watched and heard him groan.  

His silk was cool as he wrapped your wrists tightly enough to immobilise your arms and then he secured the line to one of the others, pinning you in place as securely as any rope tied to a headboard ever could be.

“Fuck…” you cursed, arching your spine and spreading your legs. Your clit was swollen and sensitive already, but when he slid his arms underneath your thighs and brought his face close enough that his breath shivered across your wet skin, you gasped and bucked.

Feluän’s tongue teased you to start with as he simply savoured the taste of you, but when he got to work in earnest, his claws pricked your skin and he held you down while you tried to writhe and squirm. You weren’t shy about the sounds you made, and when you saw the way his abdomen was moving in time with his tongue on your body, you realised he was every bit as turned on as you are. You knew that driders didn’t mate the way humans did, and that when he came, he was most likely going to make a mess all over you. The thought of it made your eyes roll.

His nose nudged against your clit as he delved deeper into you with his tongue, moaning and kissing and sucking and devouring. 

“I’m getting close, love,” he whispered in the tiny silence that blossomed around you when he drew back to adjust his grip on your legs. You’d never been rendered immobile like this by a partner before, with your hands tied and your legs clamped in his grip, and you felt your body clench in the absence of his tongue. He laughed, low and seductive. “So are you, aren’t you?”

Mind a blur with pleasure, you just nodded and keened.

“When I come, can I come over you?” he asked, and he sounded utterly wrecked.

“Gods, please,” you gasped, bucking weakly. “Please, anything, Feluän. Please… I need… I need you to… please…”

“Need me to do what, love?” he asked, licking teasingly over you with the tip of his tongue, savouring you without returning to his earlier endeavours to make you come. It was too much and nowhere near enough and you let out a broken sob. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t do it,” he said provocatively.

With a growl of frustration and effort, you wrangled the words into the right order in your hazy mind. “I need you to make me come, Feluän.”

“That’s good,” he praised and you arched upwards, legs parting a little wider for him. “Gods, you’re everything,” he whispered as he leaned back down and closed his mouth around your clit.

You gave another wild yell at the barrage of stimulation, and under a minute later you came with a heaving shout against his mouth. Waves of pleasure swept through you, and only a second after you stuttered out his name again, you heard him give a tiny ‘oh’ of surprise before he reared up, his whole body tensing and starting to shake, before his own release gushed over the spot where his mouth had just been. The heat of his come against you there sent you over the edge again and you thrashed beneath him. He was still coming when he lowered his humanoid torso down atop yours again and pulled you close, one clawed hand around the back of your head.

“Oh gods,” he said, his whole body twitching and coming while he cradled you beneath him. “Oh gods, you’re everything. You’re perfect… gods… oh…”

Eventually, his orgasm faded and he staggered, all his legs moving out of sync as he tried not to crush you while the strength fled his limbs and he collapsed onto the webbing.

You’d never been such a mess after sex, and you’d also never come quite so hard.

He reached dazedly out with one of his taloned pedipalps and carefully slashed through the silk holding your wrists together, then he raised his head a little more to regard you. “Are you alright?” he asked. “That wasn’t too much?”

“Perfect,” you mumbled. “You made a big mess though,” you said when you felt his release sliding over your thighs and hips.

“I’ve never made that much mess,” he said and he looked genuinely embarrassed when he pushed himself upright.  

“Good job there’s a bath over there,” you said, eyeing the basin that was practically a small swimming pool. It was certainly big enough for a drider to soak himself in relative comfort too.  

Feluän staggered over to it and turned the bronze tap that started a flow of hot water from the gigantic cistern beside the fire and then returned to you. “Can I carry you?” he asked, looking shy for the first time in your relatively short acquaintance.

“You’re going to have to. I can’t feel my legs,” you said.

“I didn’t — My venom —” he sputtered in horror. “I —”

“Oh, it’s not you,” you chuckled as you floundered to sit upright. “I mean, it was you, but not your venom.”

He deflated comically in relief and laughed as he scooped you up and bore you towards the tub. Glancing back, you saw that his come was all over the webbing and had dripped through onto the floor.

Feluän set you down on the shelf that ran around the edge of the bath washed you off while it filled. The gentle action of his caring, attentive hands on your body soothed you and worked you up again, and when you moaned and bucked weakly into his hand, he raised an eyebrow. “Again?” he breathed, as though hardly daring to believe it.

“Please?” you whispered, eyes half-closed where you floated in the warm water.

He was careful with his claws, using only the pad of his finger against you, and when you came with a little sigh and heaved into his arms a few minutes later, he smiled at you and leaned down to kiss you. 

“I want to do that to you every day,” he said over the rush of water into the bath. “I don’t want a day to go past where I haven’t seen you make that face for me.”

How could you refuse an offer like that when it was so generously made?

__

I really hope you enjoyed this. If you did, and you made it all the way to the end, please consider showing your support by reblogging. It really is the best (and totally free!) way to help the artists and writers whose work you enjoy.

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[tookthe-405]

Hard to sleep

bsf!ellie x bsf!reader

Masc!ellie x fem!reader

summary: Modern au where you and Ellie are best friends and in college together. About the queer situationship so many of us had with our best friend :,)

It’s angsty but still fluffy I swear 😪

(Happy End)

c.w: smut!!, weed, mention of alcohol and drugs and long af and I think that’s it but speak up if i missed something!!!

authors note: this is my first fic so please be nice to me, but still give critic so I can write better next time 🫶

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

“Wakey wakey sunshine it’s time to get upp”

You sigh annoyed thinking you’re still asleep and dreaming some shit, because of course Ellie follows you into your dreams.

“Dude get the fuck up” this time her voice doesn’t sound so subdued and you jump out of your sleep.

“Holy fuck”

You Look at Ellie whose casually going through your dorm room, packing your bag for you.

“You really need to stop oversleeping the classes that are the most important to you and going to the ones no one cares about”

You sigh still tired and feeling your heart beating way too fast and loud.

“You really need to stop showing up here when I’m unconscious, you always scare the shit out of me”

“I literally called you sunshine, how does that scare you?”

You giggle a bit and sit up straight, stretching yourself before standing up completely.

Ellie gives you your packed bag and you take it, still in pjs.

“You do know by the time I’m done, the lecture will be almost over” you mention to her as you open the braid form last night.

“Who said I’m waiting for you huh?”

“Um I do?”

You Look at her grinning, she sits at your desks while watching you do your hair with her green eyes following almost every move.

You Look Away quickly and go to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

Sometimes it feels like there’s a time limit when you two look at each other, like you have to watch out that it’s not too long and not too short. Most of the time Ellie doesn’t care and just keeps staring, but for you it’s important to not cross the friendship line. No one looks at their best friends for too long, no one worries about looking at their best friend too long.

You just don’t want to fuck this up.

“You should wear a skirt today”

“Huh?”

Ellie appears in the door.

“It’s hot today you should wear something short” she says again

“This your way of making me wear skirts for you?”

Ellie chuckles in her casual husky voice.

“Yeah that’s exactly what I’m doing”

“That was so fucking boring, you could’ve let me missed this one too Ellie” you whine

Ellie groans as the both of you walk to one of the cafe’s on campus, meeting your roommate Audrey and some of Ellies friends as well.

“I’m like 90% sure he said important stuff in the beginning and we just missed it because of you”

“Yeah yeah whatever I’m sorry ellie, I’ll try fixing my sleep schedule okay?”

“I’ll ask Audrey too take away your laptop and phone maybe you’ll have a chance then”

You bump your shoulder into hers and she giggles.

It doesn’t take much too make you feel nostalgic when you spend time with Ellie. Only warm air, sunshine and her laugh.

That’s all you’ll ever need and that all you’ll never have forever.

“I’m gonna meet up with Iris later”

Her tone sounds natural, no hesitation and you are sure she doesn’t know what her words do to you.

And the worst part is you can’t even be mad at her, you have no right to be.

You look down at your shoes that go in the same tact with Ellie’s, over and over again.

“Really? Was she the one with the braids?”

Ellie nods and you try to make some eye contact. You don’t want her to feel bad, even tho you’re sure she has no idea how you actually feel, and you always try to be happy for her. But maybe you want her to get it. Maybe you want her to see how you look at her, maybe then she’ll finally understands.

But she just keeps walking and looking forward.

“There wasn’t a frat party in so long you have to come!”

Audrey is basically begging, she even pulls your arm.

“Everyone is talking about it in my class, since it’s the last one before everyone is going home so they wanna party big” Jesse explains with a big smirk on his face.

Ellie and you look at each other from across the table, sipping your ice coffees.

You give her a uncertain look, you know she’ll go if you go and you’ll go if she does.

“Who’s gonna be there?” She asks and your eyes land on Dina, who normally knows every human alive.

“Everyone I hope but I’m sure a few won’t go so why don’t you just tell me her name Ellie?” Dina says, a teasing look on her face and your heart feels heavy again.

“Iris. I sit with her in biology”

“Aw cute you sit with her?” Audrey says mocking her friendly, but she gives you a empathetic look. She’s the only one who knows about your feelings, since she was the one who was with you when you got a bit too drunk and told her about all the feeling you ever had.

Ellie looks at you for just a second, but thank god you didn’t miss it, and your cheeks turn red. You keep drinking your drink.

“Yes I know her she’s sweet but I don’t know if she’ll be there”

Ellie immediately grabs her phone and types something in it.

Jesse goes ordering something and Dina talks with Audrey about the party and what to wear.

Your feet kicks Ellie’s softly, so she looks up at you.

“Just ask her if you could met there, I’m sure she doesn’t mind” you say trying to sound as supportive as possible.

Ellie looks unsure and you grab her arm soft, feeling the fabric of her flannel jacket she’s so obsessed with.

“She likes you Ellie, god how couldn’t she and she should be happy about spending some time with you and you’re friends. I know it would make you feel more relaxed too, knowing you’re not alone” you try to whisper it but Audrey and Dina are loud talker anyway.

You smile at her and take your hand back. Ellie looks at you and her cheeks turn a slightly pink shade. She was never good with sentimental talk, too bad you’re so good at it.

“You don’t have to meet her yet you know” she says finally.

“What do you mean? Why shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know… I wasn’t sure if you wanted too”

“I’m your best friend why would you think that Ellie?”

“I don’t know I just… never mind it’s stupid”

She starts looking at her phone again but you keep staring at her confused, angry and even a bit sad. You’re pretty positive that you weren’t obvious at all for the past years, so what did you do to fuck up so bad?

“Okay she’ll be there”

“Yeah?” Jesse asks, sitting down again with a sandwich in his hand.

“Yup she says she heard about it too and wanted to ask me if I would like to go”

“Damn that’s some soulmate shit” he says chuckling and you look out the window for something distracting

“It’s gonna be fine, if it’s too much for you we can leave” Audrey tries to comfort you.

“I’m gonna be okay Audrey don’t worry, i think I can do this” you know you actually can’t do this.

“I think this is all just in your head, the whole “Being scared of losing her” thing” she mentions quiet.

It’s not just that your scared of losing her, your scared of wanting her so much that you can’t control it anymore and then losing her.

“Just go ahead with the others, I think I’ll take a bit longer… I’m just gonna take an Uber” you keep digging through your closet searching for anything you would like to wear.

“You sure?” Audrey voice sounds unsure.

“Yes it’s a short drive I’ll be fine”

“Fine but if you change your mind then I’m more than fine with just watching a movie with you Here”

“I won’t I promise we’re gonna have fun tonight” you smile at her as she walks out the door saying goodbyes and waving quickly.

Right after she left you could hear your own thoughts way too clear and it felt like your mind was ready to destroy the whole evening.

You stare at your wardrobe searching for something, but this unsettling feeling is eating you from the inside and you lay down on the bed again, putting your face in your hands.

The tears just rush down your cheeks and your body lets them. You imagine the time where Ellie has a girlfriend wife, a woman that is more important than you and the person she wants to do all the things you want to do with her. You’ll have to be at their wedding and at their house to eat fucking dinner once a year.

You would do a lot for Ellie to want you as this person, but you tell yourself that you’re not gonna cry here because that won’t change anything.

You take your phone from the night stand next to you and open the camera, seeing mascara all over your cheeks.

“Fuck” you whisper annoyed

You try to whip them away, then you get a text from Ellie.

I’m gonna pick you up in an hour okay

What about iris? Shouldn’t you pick her up?

I wanna pick up you tho, she’ll be fine we said we would meet at the party

You don’t have to do that Ellie

I get it really

I want to pick you up. Is that okay with you miss?

I can hear you say this in my head

Shut up and get ready dork

You smile and the smile tastes like hope and assurance and love.

In the end you decided to wear a shirt mint green dress that has a V cut with a little cute white bow in the middle. Since how to walk in heels is a fucking mystery, you wear your Mary janes shores in dark red.

You put your hair up and put on a brown leather jacket from Isla.

There’s a knock on the door as you try to save your make up a bit.

You take one last look in the mirror and decide that your fine with how you look. With your bag around your shoulder you open the door and meet Ellie’s eyes immediately.

You smile excited and do a little spin.

“is this okay?” You ask her

“Pretty. You look very pretty”

You take a Look at Ellie’s outfit.

Baggy jeans with a white t shirt and her blue jeans jacket and converse. You could see her black sports bra though her white tee and looked away quickly, feeling your face heat up and your mind swift away to other places.

“You do too, even your hair is open for once. Looks very good” you say and take a step forward, so you could let your fingers go through her hair. She puts her hands on your arms and closed her eyes for a bit. You fixed a few hair strings and looked at her. You often saw her this close up but you’ll always thank the universe for another chance of seeing her like this. The freckles over her cheeks and her nose, hell even her forehead.

She is so beautiful and so sweet, sure she tries to hide it most of the time but in these moments you’re both just two girls holding each others most vulnerable versions.

A moment later you find yourself hugging her tight.

Your arms are around her neck and you take a deep breath in. She hugs you back, her arms around your waist.

“I love you a lot and I hope that doesn’t change ever.”

You whisper in her ear

“I love you too…”

You eventually let go of her and try to show her that you’re still happy and excited for tonight, even though you really just want to hug and kiss her the whole night and not watch her do this with some other girl.

“Let’s go I’m sure the others are already there”

“Frat boys are some weird people but fuck their party’s are good”

Ellie’s voice makes you look right as you guys get out her car and fuck she’s right. There are people everywhere. Outside the frat house, inside and you’re sure some people are gonna end up on the roof at some point too.

“I’m gonna drink so fucking much before I need to go back home” you say, real excitement in your veins this time.

Ellie giggles and the both of you try to get through the drunk people on the front porch.

It’s louder inside the house, where a tone of lights shine around in the room, everyone is dancing and you could smell alcohol in the air.

Your eyes scan everything around you, but then you hear Ellie curse.

“What wrong?” You get a bit closer to her again.

She looks a bit pissed but you couldn’t find anything else in her expression.

“Iris is gonna be here in an hour”

“Thats a bit late” is all that comes to your mind.

“No shit, she thought we would meet up at that time but still it’s just….” She looks at your biting her under lip

You take a step back and look at her really mad now.

“What is it that bad to spent some time with me here Ellie? We don’t have too you know you wanted to pick me up, you wanted to go tonight what the fuck?” You hear your own voice getting louder with every word.

You were trying. Trying to be supportive and not jealous. Trying not to think about her, about all the things you dream about. But this just feels like some fucked up joke.

“No! Fuck- you know that not what I mean…”

Ellie’s hands reach out for you but you step back again.

“Don’t fucking Touch me.”

And for once in a while Ellie was the one, who felt the sharp pain of rejection. Her hands slowly drop and her eyes never looked so green. Her eyes look around the room for a second, but after she realises that you’re not gonna change your mind she puts her hands inside her jacket and walked more inside the house.

You don’t feel the tears this time. They just appear in your eyes as you watch Ellie walk away.

You Turn left and walk up the stairs, trying to not let anybody see you cry.

You Wander around for a bit feeling like a ghost, not even sure how to think a single thought right.

After a while you find yourself in, you think the bedroom, of one the frat boys. A group of people sit on the floor, talking and smoking a joint.

Even tho you don’t really like smoking, you thought about it for a second and it didn’t sound so bad Anymore.

You stood there awkwardly, staring at them not sure what to do, but then you heard a voice behind you.

“You want one?” A tall girl with long blond hair asks.

“Excuse me?” You feel your pulse go up in embarrassed.

“A joint? I have one if you wanna smoke a bit?”

You look at her with your mouth a bit open.

Then you gave the group a last look, their laughing looking like they don’t care about a thing in the world.

“Yes… yeah sure why not”

The girl smiles and you follow her to another room, a bathroom which was surprisingly quiet. As soon as she closes the door, the noises sounds muffled.

You Open a window and lean on to the wall.

“You a student too? Or a friend of a friend?” You ask her, hating the awkward silences.

The girls steps beside you and pulls out a joint and a lighter.

“Student sadly, I would be fine with being the cousin of one of the football players” she chuckles slightly and light up the joint pretty smooth.

“So Whats Your name?” She asks you and hands you the joint.

You Take a Hit trying not to cough, but of course you fail.

You mumble your name, as you try to take a normal breath again.

“First time?” A smirk on her a face, but at least she’s not laughing.

“No but I don’t smoke often”

“Hm”

“Sorry what’s your name?”

She takes another hit and it looks way to easy when she does it which bring you wanting to do it better the next time and even better the next one.

“Abby”

“Nickname?”

“Yeah for Abigail”

“Hm cute name” you mention and take your … maybe 4th hit? You should stop counting now.

“Thank you… so what do you study?

“Psychology” I murmur

Her eye brown go up in surprise and you giggle a bit at the face she makes.

“Clinical?” She asks and it surprises gib that she knows about the difference.

“No, general”

“Oh you’re a smart girl then huh?”

You laugh loud and laughing and since you’re in a bathroom the laugh comes back way louder.

“Not really most of the time I miss the classes that I I really wanna watch” you say and your mind goes wandering off to ellie again but you try to focus on Abby in front of you.

“What do you study? Tell me what are you here for Abigail?” You say to her and she makes a face again.

“God only my dad calls me Abigail it’s kinda funny coming from an almost stranger”

And that’s so sweet that you can’t help but smile at her but then your eyes meet…. And god hers are so red that you pray silently that yours do not have the same colour.

“Pre-med”

“And you call me smart girl Abby” you say with big eyes.

“You might become a fucking doctor”

She giggled embarrassed and you could tell that the weed was working.

“I Hope so” she says looking a bit sad even and your first thought was that she might think she couldn’t do it.

You put your arm on her shoulder and your mouth falls open.

Fuck this woman has some muscles.

You squeeze her arm for a second and then realise that she’s staring at you with a confused grin.

“Sorry i Know we Don’t know each other, but I can just like you know feel that you’re intelligent and interesting and hard working and - I mean bro look at your arms I’m not even sure if that’s possible” you say laughing again.

Your laugh doesn’t stop for a few seconds, but as soon as it dies you worried that you might have over stepped the line.

You Look at her Face and she just smiles really nice and not mad or hurt just pure sweetness.

She’s really nice and your sure you guys could be friends and now you’re kinda scared that you gave off the wrong idea.

“What the fuck?”

Your heads turn to the door where a very disturbed ellie is standing.

“Ellie hey… no wait I’m mad at you”

“You’re mad at me? I’ve been looking in the whole damn house and I find you smoking weed from a stranger the fuck do you mean?”

You’ve seen Ellie being angry a lot. She was mad, because of a comic con where she didn’t get to but a signed version of her fav comic. Or when she cursed out some old dude who was driving too slow.

But never this mad.

“We’re going”

Your mind is still spinning then suddenly Ellie grabs your arm and wanting to pull you out the door but Abby steps between you both.

“Sorry but you can’t just do that”

“You don’t know shit”

Abby was definitely taller and stronger than Ellie, but Ellie’s temper was probably even bigger.

“I know she doesn’t want to go with you”

Abby snaps and Ellie’s grip gets stronger around your waist and she goes past Abby through the door.

You give Abby an apologetic look, Ellie only slows down when you are at her car.

“Get in” she hisses

You get in and you swore to yourself that this whole situation will end tonight.

“Ellie-“

“Don’t just please don’t talk right now please”

She sounded exhausted. Hurt as well like she hasn’t slept in days. Her head rests on the steering wheel for a few seconds, her back goes up and down from her strong breathing and you just shut up with tears in your eyes.

The ride was quiet, not even the radio was on. You could only hear the noise of the car driving, it’s humming which calmed you and Ellie down a bit. You still cried in silence the whole time.

You got out of the car without a word and walked up the stairs to your room, Ellie close behind you.

You Open the door with your keys and you both sit down on your bed. This might be the longest time the both of you haven’t talked while being together and it feels so incredible wrong.

“Why did you step back from me in the beginning. Why didn’t you let me touch you?”

Her voice broke at the end and you looked up to see tears running down her cheeks as well.

“Because … I felt like you didn’t want me there with you. Like you would swap me with her if you had the chance. That hurt me and I know I don’t have the right-“

“I would always choose you”

This time she didn’t sound sad, her voice sounds and feels delicate. Something tickled in your heart, like a string only she pulled on.

“I would choose you in every universe, in every scenario just tell me what you want. Tell me what you want and I’ll be it for you”

Ellie has this affect on your heart, your soul.

She could hurt you so much more and you’ll still choose her over and over again as well.

You’ll choose each other.

You Look at her lips and back to her eyes.

“I want you to kiss me-“

She didn’t waste a second, she put her hand on the back of your head and pushed you to her, the first time ellie kissed you, you tasted like weed and alcohol. And Ellie didn’t care.

If you taste like that she’ll taste like it too.

And you would still kiss each other over and over again.

Your hands found her hair again, like a few hours ago but this time you weren’t careful, you touched her the way you wanted.

Her hands found your hip and she pulled you on her lap.

“Wait - wait”

She stopped immediately.

“What about Iris?” You feel like crying again, if you’re just a replacement because it didn’t work out with her then you might kill her.

Ellie gaze is focused on her hand, that’s still on your hip.

“I couldn’t do it”

“Couldn’t do what?”

Ellie closed her eyes, frustration showing on her whole face

“I couldn’t do this to you- Jesus to her I just couldn’t. I kept on wishing it was you instead of her. The whole time and I mean for weeks. But I can’t lose you and I sure as hell can’t forget you”

Your breath feels lost and I feel dizzy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask her and out both of your hand on her cheeks, so that she looks up at you.

“Why didn’t you? Because I was scared. Scared of losing you or us or both”

Her eyes got a bit watery again, you’ve known her for so long and you couldn’t even read her when she was hurting the most.

“Give me a second”

You got up and grabbed your phone out of your bag.

Audrey, sleep in Dina’s dorm tonight, in Ellie’s bed

And don’t worry about Ellie

Always warm your roommate about hook ups, or whatever this is. God you Hoped this wasn’t a one time thing.

“You’re okay with sleeping here?”

Ellie’s eyes went wide and her face got red.

“Yeah I mean yes for sure why shouldn’t I-?”

You sit down on her lap and kiss her again, harder this time.

“Is it okay if we fuck? Or too fast?” You ask her looking right into her eyes, so she would understand how serious you mean it.

“N-no im fine Are you fine?”

You grinned, she was so cute when she was nervous.

“I’m fine Ellie. Say stop and I’ll stop okay? Promise me you’ll do that?” You kiss down her neck as you speak and even there her skin was burning.

“Yes I can do that”

You get up to her face again and kiss her soft.

“Can you open my dress for me?”

She nods and her hands disappear behind your back.

The fabric on your skin never felt heavier and you just needed to get it off your skin. You needed Ellie to see you, to touch you.

Thank god you’re wearing pretty underwear, otherwise the anxiety would’ve ruined your confidence.

The cold gave you a little shiver, Ellie hand found your waist again and you literally melted under her touch.

A few seconds ago you were nervous how she might look at you. Ellie has experience, you too sure but she’s enough for you just by being here with you in this moment. You don’t know how she feels about you.

The warm light of your lamp shines on her face and her freckles never looked more beautiful.

Her eyes wander over your whole body.

Your lace bra, your legs, stomach and you’ve never felt this intimate with a person. It’s because this time it’s with her. And you feel golden, god she feels golden, the whole room does.

Ellie’s eyes stop at your bra and she grins.

“You’re so pretty” she whispers, as she kisses the exposed skin.

You sigh smiling, your hands finds her t shirt.

“Is this okay?” You ask for her permission.

She nods still kissing, touching your boobs over your bra and the two of you giggle as you take off her shirt and now both of you are almost naked In front of each other.

“I really wanna do this with some music on” she mumbles under her breath. A few moments later frank oceans voice is filling the room from Ellie’s phone. The bad quality made you chuckle.

Your hands touch her black sports bra, caressing over her small breasts and Ellie shivered for a moment.

It’s all you ever wanted.

All her rough and soft parts combine so good and make you feel so much, that you only want to scream.

You’ve seen Ellie in a sport bra before, at the beach or when she came from the gym, but you’ve always had this weird love for her toned forearms.

Ellie watched you with drunk looking eyes. Now she looks like the one who smoked the joint.

“I’ve imagined this before, so often it’s kinda embarrassing” she confesses.

You shake your head. “Im sure that I could keep up with it”

Your fingers started to make little circles around her nipples while you watched her face carefully, so that you wouldn’t kiss one expression.

Her eyes shut down and her brows furrow in pleasure.

For a while both of you almost fought about the control.

“Please let me take this off” she begs her hands already on your back, as she fumbles trying to get your bra open which was hard because you were moving a lot. From her neck, to her ear, to the other side.

But as soon as your breast were completely exposed, Ellie’s eyes darken and a satisfied grin appears on her mouth.

Feeling her eyes on you made your skin burn and you bury your face in your hands again growling frustrated.

“Please stop Ellie” you begged but you couldn’t help letting a little laugh coming out of your mouth.

You felt her hands on your boobs grabbing them softly, with a chuckle she starts massaging them.

“Stop What?” She mumbles, playing dumb obviously.

Her hands leave and suddenly it feels too cold without them. Ellie gently grabs your wrist and moves your hands away, so she could look at your face.

“Look at me, I won’t do anything unless you watch” she whispers.

It terrifies you for some reason. This moment and the consequences it will have.

Her head moves a bit lower to your boobs and she looks you in the eyes. You feel your emotions everywhere in your body, some are different from others.

“Here”

Ellie takes your hand and guides it too her hair.

“Hold my hair back for me” her voice sounds almost like she was in a trance, a trance she surly enjoyed.

The strings of her hair felt soft around your fingers and you decided to use both of your hands, so that no hair got into her face.

You heard a soft chuckle before she starts kissing your breast softly at first, while looking at you.

Her lips slightly brush against your already swollen nipple and you let out a loud high pitched moan.

You could feel her grin on your skin and all the embarrassment was gone.

She gently caresses over your nipple with her tongue and her fingers played with the other one.

“I really love these fuck” she whispers

The feeling in your core got worse and worse and the needy feeling was almost getting too painful.

“Ellie please I-“ her tongue flickers over you pink swollen nipple and you moan again.

“Hm?” She says completely focused on her work.

“Can you please eat me out or finger me I don’t care just please-“

the look on you face showed her how much you need it, because she immediately stopped and dropped you off her lap onto the bed.

“Yeah I can do that, didn’t know you could ever beg for something” she lets out a little giggle in her typical husky voice, while she kisses you down your body.

Your back found the wall and you changed your position, so that you could still watch her.

Her hands removed your underwear and the cold on your pussy makes you shiver.

She puts your legs over her shoulder and lays down on her stomach.

Her head lift up and she looks at you with a grin, an amused grin.

“What?” Your voice shakes a bit.

“Nothing just happy to be here”

You let out a loud laugh which died a second later, because Ellie starts to lick your clit in evil circles.

“You’re so fucking wet” she murmurs with closed eyes just saw tasting you.

Your voice got louder and louder by every move her tongue made and you could feel her enjoying every second.

“Oh my god faster Ellie please-“

Her tongue licks you faster, she couldn’t stop humming to your moans like she was feeling it too.

“You taste so good, just like I imagined”

Because of her words you got Even more turned on and you moan again, while Ellies holding you legs steady around her face.

“I’m gonna add a finger okay?”

You nodded energetic and gave off a little noise.

“Please Ellie just fuck me” you’re voice sounded like somebody else’s, way too high and way too filthy.

Ellie just chuckled and put her a finger inside your Pussy. She could feel how you’re legs tense on her cheek, as she continued too lick you’re clit.

The cruel combination made you go crazy, feeling dizzy in your head and your hips began too move on their own.

Ellie saw that as a sign too go faster as well, and her finger pushed in an out of your cunt.

“Ellie- please don’t stop”

She grins again, never imagined she would actually have you going crazy like this because of her.

“You’re getting tighter you close baby?” She teased shameless.

“Fuck- so close god-“

She adds another finger and the sudden stret made you moan and tremble at the same time.

“Come for me baby, please, make a mess on my fingers” Ellie sounded close herself and hearing her voice this desperate made you come so hard that you only saw stars for a moment.

“Oh my god- Ellie I’m gonna-!”

You came hard and ellie took everything you gave her, slurping and licking the fuck out of you.

You couldn’t stop panting for a moment, coming down from your high.

When you open your eyes Ellie was still cleaning up the mess you made, feeling her tongue on your skin.

“Okay Ellie- enough or I’m gonna cum again”

You said chuckling.

“Not my fault you taste so good holy shit” she puts her finger in her mouth.

“Ew ellie”

“Shut up I just fucked you with my mouth, you’re not allowed too judge me right now” she slides up to you and kisses your lips deeply with her tongue in your mouth, so you could taste yourself.

You kiss her back, just as eager, but the anxious thoughts won’t leave you alone.

“Um-“ you break the the kiss and Ellie whimpers slightly.

“Ellie is this just-“

“I love you.” She interrupts you, saying the words fast and it didn’t feel real for a second.

“What”

“Ive loved you for a while now I just- I’m sorry for not telling you but I was scared, god I was scared”

Her words hurt you, because you’ve felt the same way. Being too scared to tell someone how you feel is a shitty feeling.

She looks at you, but broke the eye contact immediately.

You pull her into you, kissing her cheek, her nose, her forehead, her everything.

“I also love you… that for a while as well”

A.n: sorry this was so fucking long 😭

And please Interact with the link about helping Palestine it’s literally just one click per day!!!

Anyways I hope you liked it and if there’s anything that I’ve missed or smth pls tell me!!

#ellie williams #Ellie the las of us part two #Ellie Williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #wlw #tlou2 #ellie tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fandom #femme reader #fanfic #first post #abby anderson #abby tlou #Spotify

[katareyoudrilling]

The Sweepstakes: Frankie Morales (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Porn Star Female Reader

Summary: A popular porn site runs a sweepstakes to win a night with your favorite porn star. One of the winners is a man and he has chosen you.  Will it be a night of mediocre sex or will Frankie surprise you?

Word count: ~3.5k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Unprotected PIV (paperwork is involved), oral (m and f receiving), a hint of tummy worship, reader’s clothing is described briefly but no physical description

A/N: I got in the weeds a bit thinking how something like this could be made safe for everyone involved and decided we all just need to suspend our disbelief.  I left some in for the sake of “the plot” but let’s trust that everyone has good intentions.  The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa.  This was a lot of fun to write and I hope you enjoy a reverse sweepstakes!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist - link in bio or let me know!

“Thanks for coming in.”  Erin shuts the door behind you as you take a seat across from her desk.

“Of course.”  You have a scene to film after this meeting.  It was no problem to come in a little early.

“So, as you know, we are running this sweepstakes for our subscribers to win a night with their favorite performer.  You agreed to be one of the female options and even though the vast majority of our subscribers are women, one of our winners is a man and he chose you.”

“Oh wow.”  You can’t help but be a little flattered.  Everyone likes to be chosen.

“Yeah, so I just wanted to check in with you and make sure you’re ok to continue.  I have his picture and basic info here.”  She slides some paperwork across the desk, and you pick it up.

Looking back at you are the kindest brown eyes you think you’ve ever seen.  He is wearing a baseball cap – hair curling around his ears – a scruffy beard, and a lopsided smile.  His name is Francisco Morales.

“We’ve done a background check and everything like we talked about, and he looks good from our end.  You still have the right to refuse, though,” Erin continues as you read over Francisco’s information.

“He’s cute.  I’m not concerned.  I can handle a night of mediocre sex with a civilian and make this guy’s dream come true.”  It feels a little conceited to say it, but as an adult entertainer, you know you’re the subject of a lot of male fantasies.  You also know that you are very good at what you do.

Erin laughs.  “That’s very generous of you.  Hopefully it won’t be too bad, but best to set expectations low.”  She takes the papers back from you.  “I know you have a scene to film upstairs.  I’ll let you know when we get this scheduled.”

“Sounds good.  Thanks, Erin!”  You push back from the desk and leave the office with a wave.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

When the day arrives, you prepare like you would for any scene.  You’re not more nervous than any other day when you’d be having sex with a new scene partner.  You dress in your signature outfit of a crop-top and cut-off jean shorts, showing off your legs is never a bad idea.

When you arrive at the studio, you check in with Erin to go over Francisco’s final paperwork and reaffirm that all the company’s requirements around consent and safety have been met.

When everything is settled, you go to meet him in the filming room.

You open the door to a man pacing back and forth, worrying a baseball cap in his hands.  Erin had warned you that he seemed nervous and not to expect him to be sitting eagerly on the bed waiting for you like your usual partners.

He looks up at you when he hears the door, panic written all over his features.

“Hi, Francisco, it’s nice to meet you.”  You approach him cautiously, opening your arms for a hug.

He accepts the hug and you’re pleasantly surprised at the warm comfort of his broad shoulders and t-shirt-clad chest before pulling away.

“Call me Frankie,” he replies, running his fingers through his wavy hair.

“Frankie it is.  How are you?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, I just… I feel like such a creep.” He hangs his head and twists the hat in his hands.  “The cameras…” he gestures to the tripods set up in the corners of the room.  “They said they are partly to keep you safe… I… I shouldn’t be here.”

He was right about the cameras.  Sweepstakes winners had the option of recording their encounter for private use, but in your case, the feed would also be monitored for your safety.

“I heard you chose to go for the recording option.  I’m glad you did.  I would have tried to change your mind before we started otherwise.”  He glances up at you, surprised.  “I like performing for cameras.”  You shrug and one corner of his mouth twitches.  You take it as a good sign.

“Look Frankie, I’m not going to make you stay, but I’d really like if we could talk for a minute.”

You sit on the bed and pat the spot next to you.  Frankie relents and sits next to you, keeping a safe distance between your bodies.  It’s endearing really, and warmth stirs in your chest.

“We’re both adults here, Frankie.  I signed up for this too, you know.  No one is forcing me to be here.”

Frankie lets out a long exhale and finally meets your gaze.  “Thank you for saying that.  It’s just a really strange situation and I got in my head about it.”

“Perfectly understandable.  Why don’t you tell me why you entered the sweepstakes?”

He runs his hand through his hair again, it must be a nervous habit of his.  It’s delightfully disheveled and you notice shades of caramel and gray woven through the dark brown waves.  You allow your gaze to roam over his features.  Aquiline nose.  Pouty lips.  He is a very handsome man.  His picture didn’t do him justice.

“I’m not sure what I was thinking at the time, to be honest with you.  I’m just a big fan.”  He offers you that lopsided smile you first saw in his photo.

“You know, most of our subscribers are women, it’s kind of our thing.  What lead you to us? And as a subscriber as well?”

“Good question,” he exhales again.  “I really like the idea of supporting an ethical production company where I can know everyone involved is consenting.  I don’t want to ever think someone has been coerced or treated badly while I’m… you know.”  His ears turn pink, and it might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen.

“That’s important to me too,” you nod and scoot a little bit closer to him on the bed.

“I also like that the orgasms are real.  I’m not interested in anyone... faking.”  If his ears weren’t red before, they certainly are now.  Along with his nose and cheeks.

It occurs to you that one of the other female performer options practically comes if you look at her.  If Frankie had just wanted an ego boost tonight, he could have easily chosen her.  It’s not that it’s difficult for you, but it is going to take some effort.  It stirs your interest that he might be up to the challenge.

“Do you like making women come, Frankie?”

He nods and smiles a little, still looking down at the hat in his hands.

“Do you think you can make me come tonight?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I’d certainly like to fucking try,” he looks directly into your eyes and the deep rumble of his voice turns the affectionate warmth in your chest into a building fire in your core.  You move even closer so that your leg is touching his.

Frankie stares at the bare skin of your knee where it brushes against his jeans.

“Can I touch you, Frankie?”

He looks up at you and nods.  So much want burning in his kind eyes.

You run your fingers through the hair at his temple and scratch your nails through his scruff.  He leans into your hand and moans.

Oh fuck.

The sound shoots straight to your pussy.

“Can I touch you?” Frankie rasps.

“Yes, you can.  But you need to lose the hat.”

He chuckles, dropping the misshapen hat on the floor before tentatively lifting his hand to place it on your leg.  His hands are large, warm, and calloused.  Sparks fly over your skin as he strokes your softness.  You lean in slowly and press your lips to his cheek, then his mouth.

His plush lips part with a sigh.  You turn his face towards you as you gently explore.

It’s been a while since you’ve just made out with someone.  He seems to need you to go slowly and you certainly don’t want to spook him now that he is more relaxed.  In your brief conversation you’ve become very curious about this man.

Frankie tentatively glides his hand over your clothed hip, barely letting his fingers caress the skin above the waistband of your shorts.

You guide him gently up onto the bed and stretch out along his long frame.  He’s so warm and soft, you just want to snuggle into his chest.

It’s luxurious and unhurried and oh so hot.

You let out a contented sigh as you slide your hand under his shirt and up his back.  His grip tightens on your hip, so you roll your hips towards him in response – encouraging him to touch you.

He receives the message, shifting his hand to palm your ass.  You moan into his mouth and are rewarded with a strangled groan as his grip tightens.  His rough fingertips skim the sensitive skin of your upper thigh sending shivers up your spine.

“You feel so good, Frankie,” you break away from his mouth as he trails kisses down your neck.  “I want to feel more of you.”

You tug at his shirt and he reluctantly stops kissing you to pull it over his head.  You are rewarded with a vision of golden skin over strong muscles.  He’s slightly soft around the middle and it makes you want to see your teeth marks on his skin.

You sit up and quickly pull your crop top over your head and are reaching for the clasp of your bra, when he sits up and stills your hands.

“Let me, baby.”

“Whatever you want, Frankie.”

You place your hands on his chest as he traces his fingers over the cups and straps of your bra, watching goosebumps rise over your skin.  It’s so sensuous and deliberate, you’re struggling not to whimper and you don’t even have your clothes off yet.  When he reaches around to undo the clasp, you crowd into his chest and begin to lick and suck at his neck.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as you taste his skin.  Delicious.  You allow your bra to slide down your arms and off then reach for the button of his jeans.  “Take these off.”

“In a minute,” Frankie replies and you scoff.  This isn’t the nervous man you first met.  You smile to yourself.  He must be getting comfortable.  

Turns out he needs a minute because he wants to explore your tits.  He brushes his fingertips over your nipples, watching them tighten in response.  He gathers you onto his lap, better to pull each bud into his mouth.

He swirls his tongue around you, one breast at a time, palming the other with his large hands.  It’s exquisitely, maddeningly slow.  Your pussy aches as you try to find some friction through your shorts, but he’s holding you away from himself.

Frankie smiles around your tit as you whine and try to grind into him.

“You like this, huh?” you complain, clutching at his broad shoulders.

“Do I like making you sound like that? Yes, I do.”  His voice rumbles pleasantly against your chest.

He finally relents, working his way up your neck and back to your mouth.  You take control of the kiss, plunging your tongue into his mouth and nipping at his bottom lip.  He lays back for you on the bed, settling with his head up against the headboard.  You take the opportunity to undo the fly of his jeans.

“Can I have these now?” you tease.

“Only if I can have yours.” His gorgeous mouth pulls up into his signature lopsided grin.

“Deal.”  You shimmy out of your shorts and underwear as he pulls down his jeans and boxers and tosses them on the floor.

You sit back on your heels and take in the gloriously naked man in front of you.  His long legs stretch out on either side of your hips.

He’s not the polished, waxed, perfectly honed specimen of a man you often work with.  You find that it’s perfectly ok with you, might even be preferable.  He’s so real, splayed out and unselfconscious.

Broad, warm, soft at the edges, but hard where it matters.

And the way he’s looking at you…  It gives you shivers.  There’s a deep hunger in those brown eyes, but also patience and a surprising amount of control.  You had expected this to be a pretty quick encounter, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.  You squirm, noticing the wetness building in your center.

He watches you with hooded eyes as you slide your hands up his muscular thighs.  His cock bobs eagerly against his stomach.  He has a very nice cock.  Possibly the best you’ve seen on a civilian, being a porn star does spoil you a bit in that regard.

His is nice and thick and plenty big enough to know he will feel really good.

You take him in your hand and stroke him up and down, licking your lips.

“You don’t ha…” he interrupts and you silence him with a look.

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do, Frankie.  Trust me.”

He nods and exhales, relaxing again against the headboard.  His chest is delightfully flushed as he takes stuttering breaths with each stroke of your hand.

“You’re so pretty,” you praise him and watch as the flush creeps up his neck and blooms across his cheeks.

So fucking pretty.

Then you take him in your mouth.

His hips buck underneath you and he curses as he tries to still himself.  

You pull out all the stops, giving him the slipperiest, deepest blow job you can.

You enjoy watching men come apart for you.  It’s a shame so many of your scene partners are so used to it now, they don’t react the way Frankie does.

He fists his hands in the sheets.  His mouth drops open.  His chest rises and falls with ragged pants.  The tendons in his neck strain as he tries to keep himself under control.

His cock is thick and heavy on your tongue.  Just how you like it.

You take your time taking him apart.

He’s just so pretty.

At the first sign that his control is slipping, you slow down.  Easing yourself off him and surveying the wrecked man in front of you with satisfaction.

You kiss your way up his tummy, nipping his soft flesh as you go.  Your teeth marks look just as good as you hoped – little pink crescents on his golden skin.  You continue up his chest and recapture his mouth for a hungry kiss.

You straddle his hips and line yourself up to sink down, when he grabs you and flips you over.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”  He pants into your mouth before kissing down your body, stroking your skin with his calloused fingers.  He continues working his way down to your pussy making his intent clear.  What a pleasant surprise.

You love oral sex and even sub-par oral, is still oral, right?  You prop yourself up on your elbows and open your knees wide so you can watch as Frankie takes a long lick from your entrance to your clit.

You sigh in contentment.  His mouth is warm, wet, and firm.  So what if you don’t come, it still feels good.

You relax and let your head drop back as Frankie explores.  He circles… sucks… nudges.

Oh

Ohhhh

Tightness coils in your belly and you look down at him with a gasp.

He’s good at this.

He’s looking up at you.  Brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds.  Then he winks.

He knows he’s good at this.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your throat, but are quickly pulled back under by the pleasure emanating from between your legs.

“Yes, Frankie. That feels so good,” you moan succumbing to the building pressure.  You clench around nothing and are rewarded with a thick finger in your cunt.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine as he strokes in time with his tongue.

“You taste so good, sweetheart.  You gonna come for me?” he rasps between licks.  His scruff tickling your sensitive skin.

Who is this pussy-eating king who is better than some of the professionals you’ve worked with?

It doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the coil winding tighter in your belly.  The fluttering of your pussy.  The stars sparking at the edge of your vision.

And suddenly you’re coming.  Pulsing against his tongue as he works you through it.  Groaning his own pleasure into your center.

As the waves subside, Frankie reclaims your mouth, dragging his cock through your slick folds, blocking out your vision with his broad shoulders.  You pull him down to you, running your fingers through his hair and down along his muscular back.

“How do you want me, baby?” you ask him between nips at his bottom lip.  You tilt your hips up to him and savor the rough grind of his cock between your legs.

“I want you every way, sweetheart.”  He nuzzles into your neck and your heart does a little pitter patter.  Just post-orgasm glow, you tell yourself.

“I want this to be a night to remember for you, Frankie.  How about the porn star special?”

He pulls back from nuzzling your neck, amusement lifting one side of his face into that charming grin.  “What’s the porn star special?”

You give him a mischievous grin, “Just follow my lead.”

Over the course of the evening, you lead Frankie through your repertoire.  The kinds of hyper flexible positions he’ll only ever see in porn.  You giggle your way through some of the more ridiculous ones when Frankie furrows his brow and questions what exactly anyone is supposed to be getting out of this.

You slow down when Frankie grabs your hips and hisses that he’s too close.  You kiss across his chest and shoulders and from his neck to his soft tummy as he regains his composure.  You take breaks for water and lube, teasing and laughing while you catch your breath.

You come more than once along the way.  Frankie finds your clit and gives you the extra friction you need to tip over the edge.  He stays with you, locked eyes and panted breath, through each one.  You don’t think too hard about why each time you come, it’s while staring into those soulful eyes.

In the end, you find yourself on his lap, grinding your hips into him as he sits with his back against the headboard and his face between your tits.  He feels so good in your pussy, filling you up just right.

It’s syrupy and slow, both of you worn out and rocking into each other.  Frankie’s panted moans hot against your chest.

“Can I finish in you?” he pleads, sweaty curls plastered across his forehead.

“You don’t want to see your cum all over me?”

“No, no, I need to feel you around me when I come, sweetheart, please,” he begs.  “I need your perfect pussy.”  As if you would deny him that.

You brush his hair away from his face and press a soft kiss to his lips.  “Of course, Frankie.  Fill me up.”

Frankie practically growls as he tips you backwards on to the bed.  He positions himself above you, grasping your leg as he drives into you in long, firm strokes.  

He pours every last ounce of his energy into you, finally allowing himself to chase the climax you’ve been edging him towards all evening.  He presses his forehead to yours while he slams into you at a relentless pace.  So close.  So deep.  Your climax hovers on the horizon once again.

“Come with me Frankie,” you whimper.  He groans and stutters in response.  You watch his face contort into pure bliss and it tips you over the edge with him.

Such a beautiful sight.

Maybe you need a copy of this video too.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Frankie waits on the sidewalk for his Uber, resting his back against the non-descript building and letting the memories of the evening replay in his mind.

After the scene, you had both cleaned up.  The bed was a mess, but you had assured him that it was ok, it came with the business.

You were more wonderful than he ever could have imagined.  So beautiful, sexy, and fun.  You had been so kind and complimentary after.  He didn’t know how to end the evening… to say goodbye.  He stammered his thanks when you gave him a hug and a final kiss as you showed him where he could take a shower before he left for the night.

When he’d come out, you were already gone.

Just a memory now.

One he would revisit often.

Thank fuck he agreed to the video.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.  The Uber is probably close by.  He pulls it out absently, brain still hazy and sex-addled.

There’s a message from an unknown number:

I hope you don’t mind, I convinced Erin to give me your number.  I had a great time tonight.  Call me sometime ;-)

A slow smile spreads over his face.  Maybe not just a memory after all.

- - - - - - - - - 

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

#the sweepstakes #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal

[costelloschoice]

I absolutely adore your fics and was thinking about a Yandere Mizu fanfic idea (if you like the idea as well of course) Keep up the good work you're amazing 🥰💜

-Thank you for the request, i made a little something short yet sweet <3 -sorry it took so long, I managed to fuck up my legs by falling from ice (don't ask) so i've been focusing on feeling better :}

Red Means I Love You Yandere!Mizu x fem!reader -warnings: toxic behavior, possessive over reader -hope you enjoy :]

She never felt this way about anyone else. It was scary.

Mizu believed that love wasn't for her. Love was harsh to her, least till you came along. You were such a breath of fresh air, a beautiful rose in a garden of weeds. And she wanted your sweetness all to herself.

You were like a small deer. A fragile and gentle being. Something so pure and sweet, weak and defenseless. So pretty up close but easily scared…Yet she managed to get close to this deer. And you didn’t run away…In fact you decided to come closer to her. She was a hunter, killing many, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate your beauty.

She thought she had a little crush on you. I mean, you were so nice to her and showed her kindness that she always dreamed of. But seeing how Taigen would try to flirt with you, made her feel an unbridled rage. How the hell does this man think he is? First, he has Akemi and now you? No. He doesn’t get to have who ever he wants. Maybe because of Mizu’s childhood he tortured her, but he doesn’t deserve a girl like you.

Mizu would Taigen away, threating him to stay away from you. That Mizu knows men like him will use someone as beautiful as you. Everything about you was perfect, Mizu couldn't find a flaw if she tried. It seems like you've stolen her heart from her. Taigen would get offended and walk away. Like a buck trying to win over a doe deer but failing due to the human the deer was so close to.

In her eyes, no one could be around you or talk to you for too long. She would barely let Taigen speak to you and Ringo was allowed to talk to you and only to help you with an injuries.

When Boss Hamata sent his men to attack Mizu and the women at the tea house, she tried to protect you the best she could. You refused to stay in the basement and help Mizu fight against the corrupted boss and his men. She told you to stay back and hide with the rest...but of course you didn't listen.

You were a foolish girl, but like all humans, we make mistakes.

You were on the ground, bloodied and you tried to stop the man’s katana from going into you. From the blood spots, it looks like you were getting weaker and weaker by the second and wouldn’t be able to last any longer. You were a poor, helpless baby dear against the big bad wolf…You couldn’t find this man off alone. It was pathetic, but in a cute way.

Mizu, trying to have a grip on the situation, immediately went after the man. Ripping the man off of you before stabbing him repeatedly. She was the hunter who took the wolf down to protect her doe deer. She didn’t care if he was dead, she just kept stabbing till her anger subsided.

Now covered in this man’s blood, she turns to see you. You looked petrified. She thought it was because of the man but really it was because of her. She was used to everyone looking at her that way…but your gaze hurt the most. Her deer was surely to run off in the woods and never been seen again from her.

“Oh my dove..” Mizu spoke, moving to you. Her bloody hand caressed your cheek. The smell of iron was thick and heavy, making you flinch and gag internally. You were disgusted by these actions, her violent and ruthless killing. Yes he hurt you but at some point it’s uncalled for….but bigger shouldn’t be choicers.

“You’re safe..” she whispered, placing a kissing to your forehead. A red lip print on your forehead. It felt so wrong but nice after your near death experience.

“My small doe…You’re mine to protect..” she whispered into your skin, continuing to place kisses on your forehead.

“You’re mine.”

She said with aggression present in her tone. You just nodded, what else could you do? She could easily hurt you is you protested. You didn’t wish to die at the hands of your protector.

“I’m yours…”

“All mine..” she mumbled. Mizu caressed the soft hair of her doe deer, calming down the easily frightened creature. She perfect, sweet, weak and fragile deer now safe in her arms again, where she belongs.

#bes mizu #mizu x reader #bes #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu x you #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #wlw

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Throat

steddie, getting together, aob, neck kink

Like, he gets it. Eddie knows that it’s borderline prude behavior to think this way. Steve was on the swim team for chrissakes, so it isn’t like he’s shy about his body.

But his neck is ALWAYS on display. Showing off those pretty moles, the hard lines of his ligaments, the prominence of his adam’s apple, the slight swell of his mating gland peeking over his shirt collar.

Eddie can’t help staring, but he tries his best to hide his glances.

Even on the days Steve wears collared shirts—and he mostly does, what with all the polos—it’s like he’s trying to draw attention to the parts of his neck that remain uncovered.

It especially doesn’t help that they’ve been dancing around each other for months, flirting openly.

Eddie only does when they’re with other people, an excuse to pass it off as a joke.

A way to protect his heart by convincing himself Steve is kidding, too. 

At least until he goes home, and in the darkness of his own room he lets his mind wander to the beauty of Steve’s throat.

He holds the sleep tee Steve borrowed the last time he crashed at the trailer because he was too faded to drive home, the earthy smell of weed mixing with his cherrywood scent and going right to Eddie’s head.

It takes less than a minute for him to come in his fist, the image of Steve presenting his throat for Eddie’s teeth spurring him on and filling his knot.

His face burns with shame as he reaches for tissues to clean the mess, then he drifts to sleep and dreams of traded bites.

Dreams of sweeter words whispered at his ear as Steve welcomes him into the hot clutch of his body.

He wakes up hard or sticky or both most days.

But now they’re hanging out, just the two of them since Robin finally got her shit together and has a date. He and Steve spent an hour reassuring her that everything would be fine and giving her tips. She just left to meet Chrissy at the Hawk for the movie portion of their date.

Steve is leaning back in his chair, staring up at Eddie with the softest hint of a smile. “Whatcha thinking ‘bout?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the alpha.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Nothing, um, not a thing.”

“Liar.”

He sputters, dropping into the chair next to Steve’s as he chokes. “I’m not. Steve-”

“Eddie.” Steve’s eyes are hard. Serious as he sits up and sensually drags his fingers across his collarbone. “I know you’ve been looking at me.” He shrugs out of his jacket.

Angles his chin to draw his eye along the line of his throat. “But I don’t think you know how I’ve been looking at you.”

Eddie chokes again, manages to squeak, “What?” as Steve gets to his feet. He’s sure his scent has gone bitter in his confusion.

“When you put your hair up,” Steve murmurs, deft fingers gathering Eddie’s brushed out curls to hold at the back of his head. “Then I get to look too, can smell you better.”

Swallowing hard, Eddie feels his throat bob, the motion drawing Steve’s dark eyes.

“Looking at you makes my teeth hurt,” Eddie whispers, breathing through his mouth and showing off his descended fangs. “You’re so fucking perfe—”

Everything moves so fast then: Steve drops into his lap, nose nuzzling his neck as he breathes deep. Moans, “Eddie, please.”

His mouth finds its way to Steve’s neck, sucks a hickey below his ear before their lips ever meet.

—

After that, Steve keeps his neck more covered. At least his mating gland for sure is hidden by his shirt collar.

It’s just for his alpha now.

#steddie #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #ficlet #thirsty thursday

[munsonkitten]

strange as angels

| steddie | 8600 words | explicit | tags/read on ao3

Eddie squirms on his bed, lying on his stomach with the seam of his shorts hitting his cock just right. He can’t do any more than that, though, because Steve’s sitting just a few feet away, taking a hit off the joint that Eddie passed over to him before he had gotten comfortable where he currently is.

Fuck, weed makes him horny. Most things make him horny, but the weed paired with the summer heat paired with Steve Harrington in the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen, nothing but a white wife beater covering his torso, well, it’s a fucking recipe for disaster. A recipe for wetness spreading between his thighs, something tingling and warm where he can’t touch.

He groans, face buried in his pillow. The seam of his shorts pressing perfectly against his cock. The heat around him and the heat between his legs is nearly unbearable. He needs to do something, but that’s just another problem.

Eddie hasn’t been able to get off since March. He tries, he tries a lot, but as horny as he gets, he just touches himself and touches himself and suddenly it’s an hour later and he’s made no progress, his pussy has dried up, and his cock fucking hurts. Every single time.

“You okay, man?” Steve asks. Rough and deep, throat scratchy from smoking. Without even realizing what the fuck it does to Eddie to hear him like that.

God, he needs to stop smoking with Steve. They need a new hobby, something else they can do during their hangouts, because honestly, Eddie’s been crushing on him since middle school, and it’s only gotten worse. This pent up sexual frustration doesn’t fucking help, that’s for sure.

Eddie turns his head on the pillow, faces Steve. He takes a breath.

“I’m fine,” Eddie huffs. “Just fucking…”

He shakes his head and rolls over onto his back.

The pressure on his cock alleviates, but he still throbs in his shorts, still pulses with need and desire. He knows it’s fucking useless to even acknowlege the feeling in his underwear, knows he won’t get anywhere even if he tries. Won’t get anywhere if he kicks Steve out and tries to get himself off like he wants.

“I’m high,” Eddie says instead. “And being high makes me, uh, horny, I guess. So just, you know.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes. “I can, like, go in the living room. If you wanna, you know, do something about it.”

“No,” Eddie sighs. He sits up, plants both feet on the ground, watching as his toes sink into the carpet beneath his bed. “Nah. I haven’t been able to.”

It’s embarrassing, admitting it to Steve. He can’t look up at him, not as heat settles in his cheeks, as his hands shake in his lap.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks. “Haven’t been able to touch yourself?”

“I mean,” Eddie starts. “I get horny I get my hand down my pants, try and try, and then I never get close enough to cum.”

He doesn’t say that it’s usually because something in his body ends up hurting in a way that isn’t fun or that he gets into his head about one thing or another, or just… Just general fucking dysphoria over his body. He doesn’t tell Steve there are reasons for it because he’s already said too much.

“Oh,” Steve says. He stretches forward from Eddie’s desk chair and puts the joint out in the ashtray on Eddie’s nightstand.

Eddie thinks this is it, Steve’s just gonna get up and leave. Eddie’s said too much, shared too much. He’s never had a guy friend he’s spent this much time with, not one so close to his age. His band’s too young, the Hellfire kids are too young, he wouldn’t talk about any of this with them, wouldn’t dream of it, but Steve — well, now Eddie doesn’t know if he’s even allowed to talk about it with Steve.

But then Steve leans back in the chair again, spreads his legs out with his hands clasped over his stomach. He gets comfortable, and Eddie watches him, careful not to meet his eyes.

“How do you do it?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s head snaps up and he finally looks at Steve’s face. “What?”

“Well, you get your hand in your pants, right? Have you ever tried taking them off? Getting all spread out and naked?”

What is happening right now?

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Not really. Tend to just stick my hand in there and touch my dick till I finish. Don’t really need to take them off. I mean not that I never do, but I just—”

“Try it,” Steve says, nodding toward him.

“What? Now? Are you fucking — you, what, you’re gonna sit there while I get naked?” Eddie splutters.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Steve says quickly. “Just, you know, I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Not when I’m about to jerk off!” Eddie reminds him. “Helping me bathe when I’m half-dead is not the same thing.”

“Hey, man, I’m just saying,” Steve says, putting his hands up in something that looks like surrender. But then he fucking continues. “I’ve gotten a lot of people off, you know? I could give you a few pointers.”

Eddie stares at him. He waits. Waits for Steve to laugh and say he’s just kidding, waits for Steve to punch him for even considering saying yes.

Waits.

And nothing. Steve just watches him back, head tilted forward, eyebrow slightly raised. He still has his hands clasped over his stomach, legs spread so casually. Eddie could fit between them, nose along Steve’s zipper and pull it down with his teeth — and no, he tells himself. He can’t afford to think like this.

“Hey man, if you don’t want to, that’s fine,” Steve says after a while. “I shouldn’t have — I mean, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by asking, or anything. It’s just, you know, I’ve had some friends and we used to, like, jerk off in the same room sometimes. No big deal. I mean—”

“Steve,” Eddie blurts out. He doesn’t want Steve to say anything else about how he and Tommy Hagan used to jerk it together. He doesn’t think he could handle it without fucking dying. “This is fucking insane, but I — okay.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie swallows, nods. “Yeah, I mean — fuck, man. It’s been… A really long time.”

Steve nods encouragingly. He sits up a little bit straighter, hands on the edges of his seat to push himself up. He looks like he’s going to stand, and then slumps back into the desk chair with a little sigh.

It’s like he wants to… Like he wants to get closer. Touch.

And the thing is, Eddie would fucking let him.

“Alright,” Steve says. “Uh, then take off your pants, okay?”

Eddie nods and stands up from the bed. He tries not to think too hard about it — Steve has seen him naked before, that’s not a problem at all. Steve had to help him a lot after everything in March, and he had already found out by accident that Eddie is trans. Eddie hadn’t wanted to expand the number of people he’s out to by letting anyone other than Steve and Wayne help him with his recovery.

So yeah, Steve’s seen him naked, he’s seen him get undressed. It’s in a different context now, of course, but as Eddie unzips his shorts, he can pretend it’s all the same.

His denim shorts hit the floor, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, just a pair of light briefs because even his regular boxers were too hot to put on today. He isn’t wearing a shirt, didn’t bother to put one on when Steve came over, having asked Steve if that was okay. You’re a dude, aren’t you? Steve had scoffed. Why would I care if you don’t wear a shirt?

And Eddie didn’t mention the one tit he has left, the fact that he hasn’t always been seen as a dude, but Steve never mentions it, so Eddie never does either.

Steve’s seen him naked before.

He pushes his underwear down, lets them slip down his legs into the pile of material around his ankles. His hands cover his crotch, not really meaning to, not with any intention, it just feels like the thing to do.

“Gonna hide from me?” Steve teases.

And honestly, what the fuck?

Eddie doesn’t even know what’s happening right now. Doesn’t really know how to process all of this, but his cock is throbbing under the attention, pulsing with the need to touch himself. He doesn't think he’s been this horny since before the bats tore him to pieces. He could probably get off without Steve’s help, but that might be wishful thinking.

Besides, Steve’s the whole reason Eddie feels this way right now. He knows that.

“Not gonna hide,” Eddie breathes, mostly to himself.

He turns, places a knee on his bed and climbs back into it, leaving the pile of clothes on the floor, leaving the covers pushed to the end of the mattress. Nothing between them, no more pretending this is just what it always is.

Eddie spreads his legs as he gets comfortable, angled out from the corner of his bed, propped up by the corner of the walls. He feels the sticky heat from the room settle on his bare skin, the slight breeze coming through the window, the waft of air from the box fan pointed toward his bed. He feels all that, but most of all, he feels Steve’s eyes on his body.

“Go on,” Steve encourages.

He rolls the chair forward, feet moving him across the floor until he’s just two feet away from the bed. His new angle has him looking right up between Eddie’s legs, has him close enough that he could reach out and touch Eddie’s ankle, his shin.

“Are you sure this isn’t weird, man?” Eddie asks. “I mean, you know I’m — I, uh, you know, man. I’m a fuckin’ queer. I mean, having you here, that’s… you know.”

Eddie winces, waving his hand helplessly, a vague gesture round the room as he searches for the words he doesn’t really want to say. Doesn’t want to admit.

“I know, Ed,” Steve says softly. “I know, and it’s alright.”

Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding and shuts his eyes. He forces the words out, something painful in the vulnerability. “Just… I’m not gonna not be thinking about you while I do this.”

“Eddie,” Steve says in a way that makes Eddie’s eyes open. Giving him his full attention. “It’s okay.”

Eddie nods. “Right, so then I’m just gonna…”

He gestures down toward himself, down toward his cock, hard and alert, sticking up out of the thick, dark hair surrounding it. Steve’s eyes follow down, and Eddie nearly misses the way his tongue darts out and wets his lips. Without meaning to, Eddie moans quietly in the back of his throat, a quiet noise he can’t help.

He’s never felt… Desired. He’s never had anyone look at him like this, when he’s bare and spread open.

Eddie closes his eyes, needing to focus, and slides his fingers over his cock. He twitches beneath his touch, that good, warm feeling spreading through him. It starts off how it always does. Good. Touching his cock always feels good at first, always makes him think he’ll get there eventually.

He rubs his fingers over it, slides them down to his hole to gather the wetness there, and brings them back up. He works them slick and sloppy over his cock, hearing the wet noises he makes. He can’t help the little breathy groan that escapes from his lips, can’t ignore the one he gets in response from Steve.

He goes quicker, presses against himself harder, quick little strokes to get him closer but—

“Slow down.”

Eddie stops completely, looks over at Steve. He’s still sitting there, casual as ever.

“What?” Eddie breathes.

“Slow down, Eddie. Go fast like that and you’re gonna, like, burn out,” Steve says. “Go slow, ease yourself into it.”

Eddie listens, of course he does. When Steve’s using that voice, looking at him like that, all parted lips and spread legs, Eddie can’t even think of not listening.

He slides his thumb over the top of his cock, back and forth over the short length of it. It’s not enough, not fast enough, not building enough. He’ll be here for fucking hours if he keeps up this rate, and honestly that’s just as bad as not getting there at all. He doesn’t fucking have time to spend hours getting himself off, not when he used to do it in fifteen minutes and go back to whatever he was doing like he never paused in the first place.

He closes his eyes, lets the feeling wash over him, doesn’t go any faster because Steve didn’t tell him he could.

His breaths come out a little faster when he hears Steve shift, hears the fabric of his shorts rustle a bit. Eddie doesn’t look, doesn’t need to know. Just the idea that Steve might be touching himself, or needs to, at the very least, adjust himself in his shorts, is enough to make Eddie tremble with need.

“Slow down,” Steve says again.

Eddie fucking whines. He didn’t realize he sped up until Steve said it. He’s just desperate to force an orgasm after so long without. He slows down again, slides his fingers over his dick in languid movements.

“Ed?”

“Mhm?” Eddie opens his eyes, looks over at him.

“Going okay?” Steve asks. He has his hand cupping himself through his shorts, not moving, just holding. Eddie wants to watch him, wants him to get naked and spread himself out just like Eddie is.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Going about the same as it normally does at this point.”

That’s actually a fucking understatement.

“That’s good,” Steve says. “Have you ever tried fingering yourself?”

Eddie nods, a little too jerkily. “Yeah, but I can’t reach too good anymore.”

With that, he dips his fingers lower, slides one over the entrance of his hole. He dips the finger just inside his pussy, feeling the stretch in his shoulders and back as he tries to reach further. Ever since he got hurt, it’s been harder, he can’t quite get much deeper than his first knuckle.

“You don’t have a toy or anything?” Steve asks.

Eddie slides his finger in, ignoring the aches spreading through his body. He spreads his legs open further, feels the painful click in his bad hip when it’s too far, and has to pull his finger out, gasping with the pain. He clutches his hip as he moves his leg back into a more comfortable position, and then he feels a hand settle over his.

He opens his eyes to see Steve leaning over him, hand still on Eddie’s hip. He rubs at the spot, massaging the pain away. He’s done this before — Eddie’s hip, his shoulder, his back, any of the problem spots he’s had over the last few months. Steve has massaged him, held him up, kept him steady, used his big hands as a brace when Eddie just needs some extra support where it hurts.

This hand burns.

Red hot with fire, with the look in Steve’s eyes.

“I asked you a question,” Steve says, voice low in the way Eddie likes it. He shivers.

“Could you repeat it?” Eddie pants.

“Do you have any toys?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, man. Too expensive. I’ve, uh, used the handle of my hairbrush before, back before everything, but…”

He trails off, shaking his head. It’s been a while. It doesn’t feel right using the thing he leaves in a shared space on the bathroom counter.

“Poor baby,” Steve murmurs.

A moan punches out of Eddie, the name swirling around him and holding him tight in a warm embrace. Baby, baby, baby.

“You must be so desperate to get off,” Steve continues.

“I am,” Eddie whispers.

He starts touching himself again, cock between his knuckles. He slides his thumb over the tip, entire body twitching with sensitivity.

Steve is so close still, leaning over Eddie’s body with his hand still cradling his hip. The point of contact is so minimal, so routine, but it feels like he’s being touched everywhere. Like Steve’s the one working his fingers over his cock.

He wants that. Wants Steve to touch him, to be the one to get him where he hasn’t gone in so long. He wants Steve’s fingers inside him, knows they’d stretch him just right and hit exactly where Eddie needs them, thick and long, and perfect. Steve Harrington is fucking perfect.

Steve goes back and sits down on the chair again, and Eddie watches him, watches the way he settles and puts his hand back over his own cock. Eddie can see the bulge in his little shorts, can see the way his cock is straining to get free. It’s big, Eddie knows that. The thought of it inside him, oh god. Eddie screws his eyes shut again.

He can’t keep thinking about it.

“What do you like, Eddie?” Steve asks softly, leaning in closer.

“I don’t — I don’t know,” Eddie pants, tilting his head and opening his eyes.

“No? Nothing?”

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie says helplessly.

“Is this all you do, baby? You just touch your pretty cock? What do you think about?”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groans. Zings of pleasure shoot through him, his dick throbbing and twitching from the words. “I like when you say shit like that.”

“You like a little praise, I get that. Like being told you’re doing a good job,” Steve says thoughtfully. “What else?”

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie says. He drops his hand to the bed, spreading his legs a little bit further to feel the air on his cunt. What he thinks about is Steve Harrington’s huge hands gripping his hips as he fucks his huge cock into him. That’s what he fucking thinks about.

He digs his fingers into his thighs, trying to distract himself from the thoughts. His cock pulses, and he can see it twitching between his legs when he looks down. He digs his fingers in deeper, wishing he could do it hard enough to bruise, settles for digging his nails in instead.

“Think you might like a little pain, too, though, huh?” Steve asks, drawing Eddie’s attention back to him.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He looks… He looks about as wrecked as Eddie feels. Raw and splayed open, entire body thrumming with arousal. That’s how Steve looks, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. “I think you do. Digging your nails so hard into your thighs I’m scared you might bleed, man, and your dick is fucking… twitching, like I can fucking see it, Jesus Christ. Like, seems like you like that a little bit. And if all those tattoos are anything to go by…”

“Y-yeah,” Eddie admits. “Yeah, I like… A little pain.”

“Pinch your nipple, then,” Steve suggests. “See if that does anything.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Doesn’t do much for me. I’ve tried.”

“That’s okay,” Steve whispers. “What about, uh, spanking?”

“What, you’re gonna bend me over your knee and spank me, Harrington?” Eddie asks, and well, he doesn’t hate that idea. Okay, that actually sounds really good, but he doesn’t know if that’ll help him get where he needs to be.

“I was gonna suggest you spank yourself,” Steve says. “Slap your, uh…”

He gestures between Eddie’s legs.

“My cunt? Are you serious?”

“Try it,” Steve says. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay.”

“No, no,” Eddie says quickly. “Fuck, I’ll try anything at this point.”

“That’s right,” Steve says with a nod. “You’re desperate, baby, I know.”

“Jesus Christ, man,” Eddie huffs. If he’s called baby one more time he might cum untouched.

Without another word, Eddie lifts one hand and hesitates just a few inches above his crotch. He looks over at Steve, see the way he looks at him so intently, sees the way his eyes are fixated on Eddie’s cunt, and it’s — Eddie usually feels a bit dysphoric about the parts he has, wishes he had something else between his legs, but he feels like he doesn’t even have the brain power for those feelings to creep up on him right now. He doesn’t have it in him to think that Steve might be looking at him right now and seeing a girl.

Steve’s clearly getting off on this, he’s turned on, Eddie can see that. He can see the slight twitch of Steve’s hand over his shorts, like he’s trying not to be too obvious about touching himself.

Eddie brings the hand down, hearing the wet slap that fills the room. The blow isn’t as sharp as he’d like it to be, his pubes kind of ruin that skin on skin contact he wants, but it’s still good. It still makes him close his legs around his hand and moan out.

“Was that…?” he starts. “How was that?”

“You tell me, Eddie,” Steve says. “You’re doing this for you, not me.”

And that’s — well, Eddie kinda likes the idea of it being for Steve. He likes the idea of punishing himself and being told whether or not it’s good enough.

“I think I should try again,” Eddie whispers.

Steve nods encouragingly.

Eddie lifts his hand and brings it down again, hitting his dick dead-on and crying out. He shakes, legs closing around his hand again, and takes a few deep breaths.

“That was a good one, Eddie,” Steve says. It heightens everything Eddie’s feeling right now, spreads warmth through his whole body to hear that. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” Eddie breathes.

“Good boy,” Steve says. “That’s what matters, right? Feeling good?”

Eddie nods. If he wasn’t before, then being called a good boy would’ve done it for him. It settles deep in his gut, warm and tingling. He’s being a good boy, he is, and he’ll show Steve he can keep being one. It falls so easily from Steve’s lips, the ease with which he calls Eddie a boy making Eddie swell with something euphoric. People who find out don’t always treat him right. Sometimes they find out and flip right to calling him a girl, calling him by the wrong name — but not Steve. Never Steve.

It’s so simple, to be called those two simple words, but it means a lot to Eddie. Maybe it shouldn’t, maybe it’s bare minimum, but it’s still something important to him.

Steve’s important to him, and Eddie wants to show him just how good he can be. He’s desperate to show him.

He spanks himself a few more times, making each one better than the last. The last one stings the most, his pussy and dick sore from the blows. He feels like he could float away, each smack of his hand bringing him right back down to earth and then sending him away again. He feels light, floating in a way that has nothing to do with the weed he was smoking earlier.

He wants more. Wants it to be Steve’s hand coming down on his heated skin.

“That’s enough,” Steve tells him. “Give your poor dick a break.”

He would, he so would, but he’s fucking throbbing. He wants to go back to jerking himself off, wants to shove his fingers in deep, if only he could. Wants, wants, wants.

Most of all, he wants Steve, and he doesn’t know how to ask for him.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes. He puts his hand back on his dick, needs to touch himself. Thinks he might be getting closer — he just needs Steve. Needs Steve to take away all the thoughts that stop him every other time he tries.

“Yeah?”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to say it. He’s stood on tables and yelled to the entire cafeteria, he’s sung and played guitar in front of the entire school, he DMs with everything he has, never ever feeling nervous, but he’s never had someone this close, has never felt so vulnerable.

This audience of one feels so much bigger than the rest of them. Steve Harrington is everything, and Eddie is scared. He’s scared to ask, he’s scared to fuck up, he’s scared to be this open and raw with someone, and he doesn’t know what to say.

He shakes his head.

“Eddie Munson’s finally run out of words,” Steve comments, not meanly, or anything. It’s like he’s truly in awe of this progression. Like he can’t believe Eddie’s speechless because of him. Eddie can’t really believe it either.

Eddie just nods. He stops touching himself, reaches out to take the hem of Steve’s tank top in between his fingers. Tugs.

“What is it, Eddie? Need you to talk to me.”

“I can’t reach, but you —” he swallows. He tugs on his shirt again, trying to urge Steve into taking it off. “You could?”

It seems to take Steve a second to recall the previous conversation, now feeling like ages ago to Eddie too, but then he gets a sharp intake of breath in response, and Steve tugs his shirt over his head. Tosses it down to the floor, and Eddie’s seen Steve shirtless, but not like this. Not when he’s about to touch Eddie. And that’s what’s going to happen, Steve’s definitely getting ready to touch him, hopefully fuck his fingers into him and help him cum for the first time in months.

“I could,” Steve says. “I could. Just tell me—”

“Steve,” Eddie whines. “Please just touch me.”

Steve ends up on the bed between Eddie’s legs, knees planted on the mattress, outer thighs touching the insides of Eddie’s. His fingers slide over Eddie’s hole, rubbing at the wetness, spreading but not dipping inside.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

“Y-yeah,” Eddie breathes. “It’s fine, right? You said — you said, you and the guys—”

And Eddie knows Steve said nothing about touching each other, but he doesn’t fucking care. He just needs it so bad.

“No, yeah,” Steve says quickly. “Yeah, it’s — just giving a friend a hand, right?”

Eddie nods in agreement because yeah, that’s exactly what this is. He doesn’t need to think about what else this could mean because Steve says it’s normal. Eddie doesn’t have to worry about being the freak — the fag — because Steve is okay with this. He’s doing this.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie pants. “Just — I’m… You know I’m not a girl, right?”

Because he has to say it. He needs to know that Steve knows. Cunt and tits (one tit) don’t make him a girl, and Steve needs to know that. If Steve wants to say this is something friends do, something that doesn’t have to mean anything, Eddie at least needs him to acknowledge—

“I’m gay, Ed,” Steve whispers. “It’s okay, I’m — yeah, into guys. Don’t worry, man. Never seen you as anything but a guy, okay? Not gonna start now.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. Okay.

Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool. Steve Harrington just came out to him and now he’s pushing one finger inside Eddie’s cunt. Just a typical fucking Friday afternoon. Except it’s not because—

“This is my first—” Eddie blurts out. He cuts himself off, swallows. Says softly, “I’ve never done anything. With anyone.”

“Then I better make it good for you, huh?” Steve says.

Eddie shivers, the low rumble of Steve’s voice right in his ear making him tremble with need. He nods, a quiet moan falling from his lips, just a little noise that fills the room.

The finger inside him is long, presses and touches experimentally. Eddie finds himself panting, squeezing down around it to make it feel thicker inside him.

Steve laughs quietly, head dipping and pressing into Eddie’s neck. “Gonna push me out, baby.”

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers.

He brings his hands up, slides them around Steve’s waist, touches the scars on his hips and back.

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “Just feel good, okay? Let me help.”

Steve pulls his finger out and moves, settles on the bed beside Eddie. He lays on his side and wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist, pulling him flush to his body. Eddie’s arm and side press to Steve’s chest, the thick hair brushing against Eddie’s skin.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, face right next to Eddie’s on the pillow. He hikes Eddie’s leg up, hooks his arm underneath his thigh, and slides his fingers through the wetness on Eddie’s skin, up to his cock.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

“Good.”

Steve pushes two fingers into Eddie’s pussy. They go in easier than Eddie expected them to, he’s so turned on. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this wet before, doesn’t usually get anywhere near this, but right now he has Steve Harrington pressed to him, their sweaty bodies sticking together where they touch, and he has two fingers inside him that he’s dreamed of, and he can feel Steve’s cock digging into his leg. Sue him for being affected by all of that.

“Good?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, mouth falling open as Steve moves his fingers just right. It’s so much better than anything Eddie’s ever tried himself. The feeling of a warm body pressed against him, the feeling of someone else’s fingers inside him, it’s fucking — it’s a lot. It’s a lot, but it’s not enough at the same time.

His whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he wants to crawl toward that warmth, wants to crawl inside Steve and stay there, if only he can feel close to him for a little while longer. The feeling suffocates him, sucks all the air out of his lungs, and he turns his face toward Steve.

“You okay?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, adjusts himself so Steve can thrust his fingers in deeper, feels the stretch in his hip as he hooks his leg over Steve’s thigh. He feels like he’s contorting himself, trying to become one with Steve.

“Not enough,” Eddie tells him.

“No?”

Eddie shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to ask for more, doesn’t know what’s going to be too far, but he wants more. More fingers, something harder and faster, anything.

“What do you need?” Steve asks.

“Don’t — don’t make me ask,” Eddie blurts out. He can’t. What he wants — he wants Steve. He wants him forever, wants to keep him. Wants Steve to love him.

That’s the core of it. Eddie’s in love with Steve, and he just wants to be loved back.

“More fingers?” Steve asks, sliding a third in with the other two.

The stretch hurts for just a second and then eases into something pleasurable when Steve starts rubbing his fingertips inside him.

Eddie gasps, nods. His eyes slip shut, and he breathes, “Yeah. Yeah, good, Steve. That’s great.”

Steve hums in response, something low and rough, close. And then Steve’s lips are pressing to his chin, and Eddie lifts a hand to cup Steve’s jaw because yes, more, please, and he tilts Steve’s chin, tilting him so their lips can slot together.

And Eddie’s never kissed anyone in his life, might be doing it all wrong, but now he’s kissing Steve Harrington, and the world isn’t ending, so he might be doing okay, afterall. Steve’s fingers move in and out of him at the same pace their lips slide against each other, and it’s all so good, and it’s almost enough. It’s almost enough and Eddie drops his hand from Steve’s chin and starts to touch himself, working his fingers slowly over his dick like Steve told him earlier, and he’s getting close, he thinks. He’s going to get there.

Steve’s fingers stop, he pulls back. Eddie stops his own hand, slowly opens his eyes to look at Steve.

“Is it okay if I take my shorts off?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie nods because yeah, of course. It’s only fair.

Steve slips out of bed, leaving Eddie alone for just a few agonizing seconds. He drops his shorts and briefs to the ground, and steps out of them, his cock slapping against his stomach as it springs free.

“Christ,” Eddie breathes. He wants it inside him, thinks it might break him in two.

“Don’t feel like you have to touch me, or anything,” Steve says, crawling back into bed and taking up his previous position. “This is about you, yeah? Helping you out. Don’t worry about me, alright? Just feel like I’m losing circulation if I keep those on.”

“Hey Steve?” Eddie says.

“Mhm?”

“Shut up, please.”

Steve laughs, pressing his nose into Eddie’s neck. “Which part?”

“Can I? Touch you?” Eddie asks. He wants to. Doesn’t even know why Steve would say he doesn’t have to. “It would probably be mutually beneficial.”

“Mutually beneficial, huh?” Steve repeats. He tugs Eddie’s leg up again, pressing his fingers back inside.

His cock brushes against Eddie’s thigh, wet at the tip where it touches him.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. Summoning all his bravery, he adds, “I mean, surely giving a friend a hand could extend to, uh, more.”

“You mean…?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Eddie whines. He doesn’t want to be the one to put it out there because if Steve doesn’t want that, if he doesn’t wanna go that far, then what? Sure Steve’s gay, or whatever he is, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to go all the way with someone like Eddie.

“I really think I need you to, baby, because what I want and what you want might be completely different things, and I need to know—”

“What do you want?”

“I… Want to make you feel good,” Steve says. “I want to fuck you until you can’t think of anything else.”

Eddie moans, turns his head to catch Steve’s lips in another kiss.

“I want that,” Eddie says. “I think that would get me there.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods.

“You have condoms, baby?” Steve asks.

And, fuck, no he doesn’t. He did before his room got swallowed up, but he never got a chance to use them before they expired and got lost to the Upside Down. No, he doesn’t, but—

“No, but I mean, you were telling me you got tested just a couple weeks ago, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugs. “I guess I did tell you that.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, and I’ve never been with anyone.”

“Yeah, but Eddie—”

“I can’t get pregnant,” Eddie says before Steve can bring it up. “So don’t even worry about that. I’m, like, completely obliterated in there. Bats took my ovaries, man.”

“Well, that’s… Lucky?”

Eddie barks a laugh. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”

Steve laughs too, pressing his face to Eddie’s chest as he moves over him. He gets up, fits himself back between Eddie’s legs.

“I do, um,” Eddie says. He opens up his nightstand drawer and pulls out a small bottle of lube. He hands it over to Steve.

“You have lube but no condoms?” Steve asks, looking down at the bottle.

“Don’t even—” Eddie starts. He shakes his head. “I was in Indy a few weeks ago getting a tattoo from my friend, you know, because he has a little operation going on in his apartment, you remember, it’s the one I got on my leg? Yeah, well, he had lube in his bathroom in his apartment, so.”

“So you took it? Why?”

“I don’t know, man!” Eddie huffs. “The idea of walking into a sex shop and buying it, like, makes my skin crawl a little bit, and they don’t fucking sell it at Melvald’s, and I thought, maybe if I tried something new, I’d be able to get off, but like I showed you, I can barely fucking finger myself, and I dont have anything to—”

“Okay, okay,” Steve whispers. Soothes him with a gentle touch to his stomach.

Eddie falls silent, lets himself settle under Steve’s touch. He’s getting worked up, a bit overwhelmed. He’s so desperate to get off, it feels like he’s vibrating with arousal. He doesn’t need to be interrogated about stealing lube from his buddy’s apartment. Not that Steve’s doing that it’s just—

“You’re okay,” Steve says.

Eddie nods. Yeah, he’s okay.

“I’m going to finger you a little more, okay? Can you be good for me? Let me take care of you?”

Eddie doesn’t know why that does it for him, doesn’t know why he’s so willing to let Steve just do whatever the hell he wants just as long as Steve keeps being so sweet with him. The thing is, he just feels so safe with Steve in a way he never thought he could with anyone.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

“Good boy,” Steve says. He pushes two lubed fingers into Eddie, sliding so much easier than before.

Eddie moans, cock twitching from the words and from the fingers. Steve rubs his thumb over it and Eddie thinks he might die. He might just drop dead right here because he feels good and no one’s ever touched him before and it’s so much. It’s so much, so much more than when he does it himself, and he needs more, he needs so much more.

He needs too much.

Steve works three fingers in and out of him, leaning over so he can press a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. It’s intimate, something secret and warm between the two of them. Eddie knows this isn’t just something friends do, he knows that, and he can see it, he thinks, when Steve pulls away, that they’re both on the same page.

He hopes they’re both on the same page.

“You ready, Eddie?” Steve asks, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. He pulls his fingers out and searches the sheets for the discarded bottle of lube.

Eddie nods, spreads his legs even more. He winces when his hip turns too far, and then Steve is there, gripping him gently, and turning him onto his side. Big hands, strong muscles, moving Eddie with so much ease.

“This’ll be more comfortable,” Steve tells him, fitting behind Eddie.

His chest presses to Eddie’s back, the lengths of their bodies touching, sticky with sweat, heated with arousal. Eddie can feel Steve’s cock against him, hot and hard, pressing between his asscheeks, sliding up against the small of his back.

Steve reaches between their bodies, lifts Eddie’s leg, slides it forward until Eddie knows his cunt is on display. Steve sets Eddie’s leg down on the mattress, and then Eddie feels the wet head of Steve’s cock slide against him, right where he needs it most, and this is it, he thinks.

He’s stretched open as Steve pushes in, the fingering and all the lube helping. Steve takes his time, working just the tip of his cock into Eddie’s dripping cunt, letting it pop in before he pulls back out again. Eddie hears him add more lube, and then Steve pushes in deeper on the next try, forcing a moan from Eddie’s lips.

He turns his face toward his pillow, takes the fabric between his teeth and clamps down to muffle the sounds falling out of him. It’s good, feeling Steve against him, it’s so good feeling him inside, knowing he’s taking his time because Eddie’s never done this before.

Steve Harrington is fucking sweet, and he’s fucking Eddie so sweetly, and Eddie wants to keep him. He wants to keep him for as long as he fucking can.

“You okay, baby?” Steve whispers, sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, pressing his face into the pillow.

“Doesn’t hurt, or anything?”

“No, no,” Eddie says, lifting his head and turning it. He can just turn his head enough to see Steve over his shoulder, to see the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, sweaty and damp. He can see the way his lips part as he breathes, little rapid puffs like he might be just as affected as Eddie is. “I’m so good, Stevie. Please keep going.”

“You’ll tell me if you need to stop,” Steve says, no room for argument.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell you,” Eddie pants.

Steve pulls out until just the head is left inside Eddie and then he slides all the way in, pressing so deep Eddie thinks he might die in the best way. He feels it, feels how hot and thick and hard Steve is, feels him everywhere.

He slides in and out, never leaving Eddie’s body more than a couple inches before pressing back in impossibly deep. He slides so easily, hitting Eddie in all the spots that make him tremble. He’s being loud, he knows he is, and he almost, almost feels bad for his neighbors who have to hear it, but he also doesn’t really give a fuck.

He feels too good to give a fuck about anything other than Steve fucking him just right, a hand settled over his stomach and pressing down, holding him so close.

“Fuck, you’re sensitive, hm?” Steve comments, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder. His hand on his stomach moves, slides down until it’s between Eddie’s legs.

His fingers graze over Eddie’s cock, featherlight and Eddie tenses up, a loud moan breaking free.

“More,” Eddie demands. “Please, Stevie, need more.”

“You beg so nicely,” Steve murmurs, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s neck. “I can give you more, baby. You’ve been so patient, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie pants. “I’ve been so patient, baby, please touch me.”

Steve does, working Eddie’s cock in time with his thrusts. It’s so much, so good, the dual sensations inside and out of Eddie’s body, spreading like wildfire through his limbs and in his core.

It takes him a second to understand what exactly that means, the warmth in his gut that he hasn’t felt in so fucking long.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers. His hand works faster. “Good boy. I can feel you, angel, can you feel that? Tightening around me so hard, oh, fuck, Eddie. You close?”

“Yeah,” Eddie gasps, the word punching out of him as he rocks himself against Steve’s hand and on his cock. He’s so close, so much closer than he’s gotten on his own in months, and it’s different than he’s ever felt.

He gets right up to the edge, about to tip over and Steve doesn’t stop, just keeps fucking him through it, working him like his life depends on it, and Eddie might be screaming, but it doesn’t fucking matter. Not when he feels like this, like he’s on fire in the best way possible.

Eddie thinks he definitely dies and goes to Heaven when he cums. It’s too much, too powerful, ripping through his entire body and crashing over him. He clenches down so hard on Steve’s cock that he feels it slip right out of him, leaving him with just the hand on his cock, working him over and over speeding up, never relenting. He bucks his hips up into Steve’s hand, grinds himself against it as he gasps and cries out.

His pussy throbs long after he’s done, tingles with the aftershocks. His heart rate returns to normal and he’s left with this bone deep satisfaction. He’s never felt this sated in his life, has never felt this — complete.

“Christ, man,” Steve huffs. “You needed that.”

Eddie nods, cranes his neck so he can see Steve, so he can bring him in for a kiss over his shoulder. Their lips meet in a sloppy kiss, wet with spit, uncoordinated on Eddie’s part because he does not have control over his body anymore, that’s for sure.

“You didn’t cum,” Eddie pants when Steve pulls away.

“That’s okay, sweet boy,” Steve murmurs, and Eddie doesn’t want to dissect what that does to him. Doesn’t have enough of a coherent thought after coming his brain out to feel anything other than warmth over it. “This was about you, yeah? You needed some help, and you were so good.”

“Want you to,” Eddie says. “Want you to feel good, too, baby.”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, eyes slipping shut. He nods. “I did. I do feel good, Eddie. Helping you? That makes me feel good.”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. “I want you to cum inside me. I’ve been good, right?”

“Yeah, Eddie, you’re so good,” Steve tells him. “But you just came really hard, man. I don’t want to hurt you if you’re sore.”

“Stevie,” Eddie sighs. “We established I like a little pain, right?”

Steve nods, takes a deep breath. “Okay, yeah. If you’re sure.”

Eddie reaches down between his legs and guides Steve’s cock back to his hole. He feels it catch, pop just inside, and he whines, angling his hips so Steve can slide back in.

Steve’s arm settles around his waist again as he rocks into Eddie, trying to get enough leverage to fuck into him faster.

“Hold on,” Eddie whispers.

Steve stops, face buried into the back of Eddie’s neck, panting into his skin.

“Wanna—” Eddie starts. He doesn’t know if he should ask, if it’s too much, if it means too much, but he realizes he wants it desperately. Wants— “Wanna see your face, baby. When you cum in me, I wanna—”

And then Steve is pulling out and grabbing Eddie by the hips, moving him until he’s on his back with his legs spread, and Steve fits himself in between them, and pushes back inside. He bends over Eddie, quickly thrusting into him, grinding deep as he presses kiss after kiss to Eddie’s lips.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to slam deep, so deep Eddie thinks he might break, and shake apart over him. He kisses him, lips slack as moans fall between them. Eddie drinks them down, holds Steve tight as he cums hard inside him.

And then Steve slumps against him, cock still pulsing and twitching inside him, and Eddie can feel the added wetness of Steve’s cum, can feel it leak out with each twitch of Steve’s hips.

Eddie locks his ankles behind Steve’s back, thighs squeezing his sides, and holds him there.

“Stay inside,” Eddie whispers.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, shaking but easy. So soft and so sweet.

He’s still shaking, just resting against Eddie as they try to breathe together.

“You okay, Harrington?” Eddie whispers. He runs his hands up and down Steve’s sides, over the scars that match Eddie’s.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Steve whispers, muffled into Eddie’s collar bone.

Eddie’s hands still, he freezes. Still blanketed under Steve’s trembling body, Eddie takes a deep, shaking breath.

“Pussy was that good, huh?” he jokes. Because there’s no way Steve meant that. There’s no way he even said it, nah, Eddie’s just hearing things.

Hearing things he wants to hear.

“No,” Steve says. He lifts his head. “I mean, yeah. Your pussy’s great, man, but no, that’s not — I just had to tell you, okay? It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but you know, I have to be honest because we just… did all that, and it would be wrong for me to not tell you.”

“After we—” Eddie starts, but then all the words catch right up to his brain and he pulls Steve in for another kiss, so heated and full of all the words Eddie wants to say back.

Steve’s still inside him, still covering him with his body. It’s so hot in the room, and Eddie feels gross, but none of that matters because Eddie may feel gross, but he’s loved. Loved in a way he never has been, and that’s—

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie laughs. He thinks he might start to cry, thinks he might be already. “I mean, hell, I think I’ve been in love with you since, like, middle school, so there’s that.”

“You didn’t even know me,” Steve points out.

“Didn’t need to. Knew you were pretty,” Eddie whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “What about you? When did this revelation hit you?”

“At Reefer Rick’s,” Steve answers immediately.

“Oh yeah? Which time?”

“The first time, man. When you had that bottle pressed to my throat. Fuck, all I could think was that you were wild. Wild, but scared, man. Like an animal that shouldn’t be caged, I don’t know.”

“What the fuck, Steve? You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this the whole time?” Eddie jokes.

Steve shrugs. “Didn’t wanna scare you off. You, uh, you’re doing better now, than you were then, and even just, a few weeks ago, you know? And if I would’ve—”

“I would’ve ran,” Eddie realizes.

Steve shrugs. “I would’ve waited longer, you know. Just, you were lying there in nothing but a pair of fucking cut off shorts, squirming, man. You were squirming and whining, and fuck, you would’ve seen how hard I was if I didn’t say something first to beat you to the punch.”

Eddie laughs. “Can’t believe I got you that worked up.”

“You’re a fucking dream, Eddie Munson,” Steve says. “And I don’t wanna wake up from this one.”

And it’s fucking cheesy, it’s so fucking cheesy, but Eddie finds himself smiling, his grin overtaking his whole face. He can’t stop it, can’t contain it, doesn’t fucking want to.

“You sure know how to sweep a guy off his feet,” Eddie teases.

“Did that actually work?” Steve asks, his grin matching Eddie’s.

“Consider me swept, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink. “My feet are thoroughly off the ground.”

Steve kisses him again, and he moves them, slipping out of Eddie’s messy cunt, but not letting him go, not going far. He grabs the joint and the lighter off Eddie’s nightstand and lights it up again, taking a hit before passing it over to Eddie. They lay on their sides facing each other, Steve’s arm slung over Eddie’s waist.

“Hoping to get me horny again?” Eddie asks as he brings the joint to his lips.

Steve laughs, ducking his head to hide himself in Eddie’s neck. “I’m hoping I’d get a second round without it, but hey, if it works, it works.”

“Don’t worry, baby, you can have as many rounds as you want,” Eddie promises.

Something has definitely changed between them, but strangely, as Eddie lays in his bed beside Steve, smoking the rest of the joint they were working through earlier, it feels like nothing’s changed at all. They’ve been in love with each other this whole time, been living in each other’s pockets for the entire summer. Steve’s seen Eddie naked before, he’s helped him bathe, helped him change his bandages, helped him brush his hair, and makes sure he’s eating.

All these acts of kindness have never been because they’re just friends, and Eddie knows that now, and he thinks he knew that before, too. He kisses the top of Steve’s head, noses against his sweat damp hair, and holds him closer.

Soon they’ll have to get up and clean up, to wash away the evidence of what they just did, and they’ll get in the shower together, not for the first time, but for the first time when they both know what it means, and Eddie will hold Steve close, and he’ll ask Steve to call him angel and sweet boy, and—

They’ll clean up later.

Now, though, he whispers a quiet, “Yeah, I love you,” and holds him tight, and hears the same three words whispered back.

ao3

#trans eddie munson #steddie #steddie smut #steve/eddie #ftm eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #my fics #stranger things

[heerinnie]

U are my high.

PART 1 | PART 2 (not proofread)

SYNOPSIS: Jake has always been your and Sunghoon’s best friend. Just the three of you against the world with the strongest bond you’ve ever had, your soulmate, partner in crime, crush and brother’s closest friend. Could there be a chance you were something more? And if you were, would you risk the 7 years of friendship you shared and break the trust of your dear brother?

WARNINGS: fratboy!Jake, reader refers to Jake as Jae Jaeyun and Jake, mentions of masturbating, Jake’s a borderline perv, angst, weed, drinking, friends to lovers, making out, cliffhanger ending.

WC: Around 4k

GUIDE: text like this = flashback, text like this = incoming smut

(open) TAGLIST: @onlyjaeyun

The hours of the day passed like minutes as the anxiety of the party you were going to attend crept up your spine. It’s not like you were scared or uncomfortable, in fact you felt as comfortable as could be because the reassuring presence of your best friend of 7 years.

Growing up with an older brother meant his best friends were almost always over and eventually as some time passed those friends became some of your closest companions. Especially Jake, you were the closest to him out of everyone, he was the Park sibling favourite. Growing up with Jaeyun you witnessed him go from a nerdy quiet 14 year old to a a popular frat boy everyone dreamed of but throughout that growth he was always just Jaeyun or Jae to you and nothing could change that, every year was the same but this year. This year was different, every day at school you see his smile light up like a bright sun which has always made you weak in the knees giving you a butterfly rampage in your stomach. Each evening you find yourself laying facing your wall like some sort of kid making stupid noises while scrolling through his endless archive of photos on instagram. Worst thing about this crush was that he was feeding into your delusions like an idol giving out fan service. His eyes were always on you, your DMs were pinned to the top of his socials, he even had you as his wallpaper even though it was just a candid picture of you and Sunghoon that he took. You would never risk asking him to be yours so all the slight touches and knee buckling whispers you shared were meaningless. The possessiveness in you made you feel sick about the thought of tipsy and almost drunk girls dangling off of Jake’s shoulder like cheap jewellery knowing all they wanted was just to get in his bed for one night. It was selfish, you were selfish. You knew he’d only want to make sure they arrived home safely and kindly brushing off their sexual gestures like the gentleman he was but inside of you there was always a lingering feeling of disappointment and fear when his big puppy like eyes left yours. It’s called being an attention whore. You thought he felt like he was still a big brother to you and you’re nothing but a his best mate’s little sister he had to babysit, that’s all you were ever going to be Sunghoon’s cool little sister.

-

Your body reflected in the mirror Jae helped you put up, whilst examining the outfit you had on a far memory of the moving day popped up in you head remember how Jae helped you and Sunghoon move in to your shared apartment far from your parents and how your luck that day was nonexistent, it was a smooth ride until you a dropped a box full of clothes in front of him exposing the smallest pairs of underwear and mini dresses you owned right at jaehyun’s feet. In that box was the dress you were wearing tonight, a simple short black dress that rose just above your knees with lace cutouts accentuating your curves, with the failure of the last party you and your crew attended you decided to go all out and wear the sluttiest piece of clothing you owned to catch a certain someone’s attention, all types of thoughts blared in your head of how the night could potentially go until you hear a voice snap you out of your thoughts,

“You look like a statue” you heard his accented voice tell you,

“What?” Your body finally turned around to look the man in his eyes, you read his expression yet you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His gaze churned with a look of shock and disbelief, jaw dropping and eyes widening at the sight of your outfit,

“What.” You asked again, this time with a hint of insecurity lacing your tone thinking the outfit you chose made you look unflattering when it was the complete opposite. You would never care what anyone especially a guy would think of you and your style choices and yet you always wanted Jake’s approval.

“Why are you so fucking pale?” you sighed at his words, hoping to calm down your nerves and heart rate before you collapse with his intense look still lingering on you. What a strange reaction to seeing your best friend all dolled up.

“Oh I don’t know Jaeyun” your voice retorted, ‘’maybe it’s because you look like you just saw a ghost-”

“Woah don’t pull out the government name” he fake sulked pulling his hands up to his chest covering his dramatically wounded heart letting his expression default to his normal cheery self after a while.

“I didn’t even say anything no need to bark at me” his amused voice echoed through your head as his eyebrows cocked up,

“I would never bark for or at you Mr Sim” the fabric of his dress shirt burned your fingertips as you poked the older male to tease him for his previous statement. You didn’t even know what was going through you at this point, you were best friends for 7 years along with your brother, the three of you were like family so it just felt so wrong and disturbing to all of a sudden have these sort of thoughts and feelings for someone sunghoon claimed to be his ‘brother from another mother’. It’s just a tiny crush and that was the most you’d ever admit. As far as you knew both you and Hoon were in love with him but in two completely different ways, he had so much platonic love and admiration for him yet you just wanted to climb onto of him and make him yours, you obviously never really did anything about your strange attraction because you never dared break the line between your brother and your his best friend.

“My empathy senses are tingling, what’s wrong?” His bigger hand clutched your pointer finger and moves it away from his chest letting his finger tips linger on you for a little longer than necessary.

“Nothing...” that’s a lie something really was wrong and you knew it because every time he touched you you felt a spark go down your spine and your head get a little dazed. Even at the most minuscule and innocent touches you wanted to lose your cool and scream like a banshee. Not wanting to push you out of your comfort zone he dropped the topic and started leading you out of the bedroom towards the main entrance where everyone else including your brother had gathered.

“Y/nnie... you look beautiful tonight” you were met with a hug from heeseung the oldest of the bunch. Heeseung was the most lightweight person you knew since everyone around you were slightly tipsy whilst seung was already giggling to himself after the 3 pre-party drinks he shared with the crew. You gave the oldest a pursed lipped smile and a small laugh imagining the chaos that would unfold once the party was in its peak. Meanwhile, Jake’s eyes never left your face again trying to read your mind and ignore his own feelings of jealousy igniting.

“I’m gonna steal Miss Park for a second if that’s fine with you” his hand tugged on your arm leading you away from the group before anyone could protest, you heard Hoon shout something about no funny business after you and Jake left the group yet you paid it no attention. You didn't need Jake's words to guide you as you followed him towards the empty living room like a lovesick puppy, he practically dragged you there like a marionette.

“Alright, tell me.” The words left his mouth after hiding behind a door to the next room leaving the group stranded in the hallway,

"Nothing I'm fine" you shrugged him off lightly trying to smile as genuinely as you could,

"Y/n come on, stop drowning and wallowing in self pity, I know somethings wrong and I’m not gonna let it ruin ou- your night" his words genuine and eyes were sincere.

“If it’s about last time then I’m still sorry, I’ll apologise as many times as I have to” you felt yourself cringe at the memory of the last party you two attended.

“For goodness sake don’t bring that up, please just leave that in the past!” You hissed out the words through your gritted teeth letting Jake know it’s still a sensitive topic. Another reason for your random mood drop was the agonising memories of the last party you attended alone with Jake.

—

He wouldn’t stop talking and laughing with the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen paying you little to no attention leaving you wandering thought the packed house alone. Manoeuvring thought sweaty dancing bodies until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You caught a glimpse of a grinning smile you recognised somewhere but your drunken eyes couldn’t recognise who it was until you heard him ask you to dance. You almost immediately recognised Nicholas agreeing to dance with him. Your idgaf mentality snuck up on you as you felt your hips push with his, you were as they say dancing without leaving space for Jesus. The alcohol infiltrating your veins blurred your mind as you look up at Nicholas realising just how attractive he is and to get your mind off Jake and his walking talking one night stand you made a move. You felt his plush lips press on yours igniting a flame only Jake has ever set afire, his sharp eyes darkened as he pulled you aside to an empty room letting you continue what you started. All was going well, Jake and that bimbo were out of your subconscious and you were getting all hot and bothered with a beautiful man letting his hands roam all over your barley covered body feeling a pool of arousal build as his explored your mouth. His deeper than usual voice asking you if you really wanted to do this you purred out a response telling him that you’re up for it it he is. His soft hands tracing up your thighs as all the space between you was gone, but of course you can’t have one peaceful night in your life and Jake and the devil herself stumbled in the room almost eating each others faces. It took no time for Jake to realise the situation and he pushed the girl off of him and landed his palm on his neck thinking of something to say and yet no words came out.

Embarrassed, angry and disappointed you let your body run out of the room leaving Nicholas and Jake exchanging looks, one of embarrassment and awkwardness and the other of pure rage and shock.

Never in your life have you wanted two guys to fight over you. Well that’s a lie, you did but not like this. Not in a public place surrounded by people you know and that are actively in your social circle but that didn’t stop from Nicholas and jake rushing after you.

“Wait!” One of them called out after you, it didn’t matter who it was you just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. It didn’t take long for them to catch up with you as you stood outside the building trying to catch a breathe after suffocating inside for what felt like hours. Jake approached you pushing Nicholas out of the way. It only took a few seconds for your rage to build up and push Jake away from your body and your intoxicated body stumbling from your own impact,

“You dick.” Your emotionless voice whispered, Jakes hurt voice mumbled a quiet what to your reaction,

“You Sim Jaeyun are the biggest dick I’ve ever met, you’re fucking unbelievable” you slurred out louder than before watching as Jake’s face twisted into a pained expression mirroring the same one he pulled a few hours before in the safety of your own rooms. Before Jake could reply you started walking off feeling like you were about to vomit from all the emotions you felt,

"Wai-" he called out again attempting to take off going after you until Nicholas blocked you out of his way,

“Not now dude” nicho defended you trying to give you space like a good friend he was. You were still walking not caring about the tears pouring down your cheeks. You stopped abruptly when you heard the sound of a punch, pulling you back towards the entrance of the party where Jake stood pulling the boy by his collar. The sight knocked wind out of your lungs as you rushed back to Nicholas’ side watching as a small trail of blood slid from his nose. That was enough for you to turn around and slap your brother’s best friend straight in the face,

“You ignore me for majority of the party, you start trying to fuck that girl inches away from me and then you let me leave ALONE in a house full of drunk dudes that smells like booze and weed” you got closer to his face poking your finger on his chest making him back up a little.

“Then once I finally find a nice guy you and your leech interrupt the only part of the night i would’ve enjoyed and now what you punch him in him face for stepping up for me?” You let out a dry laugh of disbelief not wanting to believe that someone you called your best friend would do that. Why couldn't he just get it over with right now, like ripping off a bandaid and tell you now. Tell you how you drive him to insanity, why couldn't he be honest with his own desires? If only you knew he wouldn't let anyone hurt you, letting the mixture of alcohol and his shame of wanting to forget you get the worst of him.

“You are such a pussy, I genuinely can’t even look at you right now Jake!” Your voice raising in anger before you delivered the final blow,

“What would Sunghoon think? Hm?” The humiliation that rested with the name of your brother broke his mind, reminiscing over the nights when he did all those things behind Hoon’s back letting himself give in to the temptation you brought along.

“What would MY brother think of you when he find out you left your only responsibility of the night to get some pussy? That you’re too busy being a man whore for a girl who’s name you don’t know and will probably never speak to again, making her your priority”.

You’ve never seen Jake cry before so the sight of tears welling up in his eyes made your heart swell with an inexplainable ache never in your 7 years of friendship have you seen Jake let out a tear whatsoever unleash a tsunami of emotion, never did you expect that at some point in your life you'd have to witness the real Jake instead of the usually happy faced guy who never shows his pain or sadness to you. It was then when you realised the real problem was not you wanting him, the problem was something much deeper and serious since the Jake you knew would never let you down like this.

“Honestly Jake, you’re lucky she ran into me and not some dude that would do fuck all to her” and with that you left with Nicholas driving you back home promising yourself you’ll never attend a party after that at least not with Jake.

—

It took weeks for Jake to get back onto your and Hoon’s radar after days and days of ignoring his texts. You wanted to talk to him but you felt so ashamed and hurt you couldn’t look at him, but now that was all in the past. Both you and Sunghoon forgave him sooner than later not wanting to waste the beautiful 7 years you held together over a girl and Jake’s raging hormones.

After what felt like forever Jake finally snapped you back into reality with his hand on your shoulder,

“I promise I won’t leave you again.” His voice whispered into your ear as he let his body swallow you into a hug.

“I’ll be stuck to you like glue until you tell me to piss off” you finally let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in until he started tracing circles on your neck. Sim Jaeyun will be the death of you one day.

After that whole moment, you felt relief as you walked back into the hallway getting ready to leave not noticing the glances of suspicion jay, hoon and sunoo exchanged at your return.

The ride to the party was short and loud as you were squished between heeseung and Jake. You loved the little crew of friends you acquired but damn were they loud, you were sort of glad that they were though because all that noise the boys were producing interrupted the voice of anxiety that’s been marinating in the back of your mind since the morning.

Once you arrived at the house , you could hear music blaring from inside the house along with yells and laughter from people doing dumb shit for the fun of it, this was exactly what you were hoping for.

“Do you have any idea how much effort I went through to not smell like weed?” you you heard a shout form the other side of the door eventually locking eyes with the culprit. Yeonjun rushed over welcoming his friends with open arms, it was no doubt that yeonjun threw the best monthly parties ever, like the ones you see in euphoria or project x and being a music major himself he always had the best playlists to drink and dance to.

Another skill of his was decorating his beautifully prestigious home into a total party house, your gaze lingered on the designed windows showcasing the large backyard where the rest of the party was going down. His excuse for throwing another massive party was that it was someone birthday, who’s? A random man he met outside of a shop the day before, it wasn’t even known if the birthday boy was there himself but that didn’t stop him from celebrating the dudes birth. You were more than grateful that you had friends that you could fuck around with and forget the mundanity of being a student with a 9/5 job.

The environment of the house changed completely when you entered the backyard, whilst yeonjun may have claimed he just put some tables and chairs out, he totally went above and beyond. He placed strings of fairy lights from the ceiling of patio to the railings of the pool umbrellas. Everyone was dancing enjoying their night with a few faces you’ve never seen before but before you could leave and socialise Jake jogged to you bringing over some drinks he got from the liquor table claiming it’s yeonjun’s magic party elixir.

You doubted that yeonjun actually knew how to make a ‘magic potion’ but knowing him and his ways of labelling things you weren’t complaining as the beverage tasted heavenly.

As you watched everyone move you couldn’t help but felt Jake’s arm slither around your waist pulling you closer his the warmth of his body. You could smell the sweet aroma of his coconut scented body wash and cologne you gifted him as an anniversary gift celebrating the past couple years you’ve spent with him.

“You seem bored, are you?” his honey voice whispered into your ear whilst the clutch on your side tightened,

“Wanna go somewhere else? I know a place here that you’d appreciate” your eyes moved to the sight of Jake’s half bitten lip trying to analyse his body language to get a hint of if tonight was the night you’d cross the line of your friendship and the boundary hoon set up between you and his best friends. A slight smirk formed on your face as you felt his hand shift from your waist to your palm leading you upstairs not noticing the pair of eyes watching the scene quietly unfold.

You reached the top of the stairs you stopped and looked around feeling a sense of dejà vu looking at the pictures of your friend group with yeonjun from previous parties plastered on the walls. Strangely enough there wasn’t a picture of party you last attended, maybe it wasn’t just you that had a bad experience that night.

Once you made it past the door of the room you saw a balcony that Jake stopped infront of locking his eyes with yours, making you feel small and comfortable under his watch. With one swift movement the balcony door flew open revealing a string of fairy lights wrapped around rusting railing casting warm colours contrasting the browns and grays of the aging metal. The view of the car littered driveway ignited a feeling of peace, a feeling of relaxation and happiness as the cool night breeze hit your legs making you shiver.

“What would you say if you and me went somewhere beyond whatever we have right now?” Jake’s body pressed onto the railing letting his shoulders relax,

“Jake, are you trying to flirt with me?”

“I mean…” his shoulders lifted into a shrug,

“I guess I’ve been trying for the last 3 years” you definitely misheard what he said.

“Sorry?” Your breathy voice questioned the confession,

“For years I needed you, in secrecy and silence…” Jake let his head drop to his chest as the words carelessly left his thoughts. The Shakespearean words that left his mouth gave you a feeling of unease as anxiety consumed both you and him at the reaction of his best friend and your brother finding out about the nature of the situation you pushed yourself into. His mind travelled back to the memory of the night you fought and for a moment everything seemed scarily surreal. No matter how hard he tried it seemed nearly impossible to keep it together. The guilt of staying up all night to talk to you long after Hoon went to sleep only to hang up at 3am and try to ignore the aching tent in his pants. The dishonour of having to look his best friend in the eyes a couple hours after having perverted dreams about his younger sister.

“Please… say something” The self loathing broke through his words causing you to look away for a moment before snapping back to situation,

"You wanted me for years but kept quiet about it?"

"Yes" His face fell under the glow,

“Why are you telling me now?” You've known Jake for 7 years now and in almost half the time he was always fighting against his attraction towards you. The teasing has been endless as well as the flirting that seemed meaningless but now you see it in a different light than before.

He always told himself to be strong and stay away from you because of what would happen if anyone found out about this, the rumours that might surface since he didn’t necessarily have the best reputation, how much it would hurt Hoon, especially when he promised to take care of his only sibling. You both knew each other well, hell you two even got changed in the same room but no matter how many times he promised himself to take things slow and move on you always stumbled in pushed him to his limit. Why did it take so long? Why did his thought spill like water out of a tap?

"Because it's been too long”

his body now taking baby steps towards your upright and stiff body. A glint of hunger lacing his bittersweet words, it was never supposed to go this far. Jake gave up on girls when he met you and swore off having a relationship because no girl compared to you choosing to temporarily live a life without real intimacy since you were off limits. You don't understand why he was so honest to you after years of masking and hiding and maybe you would’ve found out right then and there if it wasn’t for the intrusive knock on the bedroom door behind you. Jake jumped away from you to open the door only to see the same eyes that pierced your back when you escaped upstairs with Jake.

I did it! I finally finished this fix that I was supposed to post like 2 months ago. Now you’re just gonna have to wait for me to write part 2 😚 (it will probably be here in like 2 weeks or smth since I’m back from my writing vacation). I kinda rushed the end and if you didn’t understand what the text in italics meant it was a flashback to the party accident that caused y/n to feel anxious about that party. I’ll also mention that English isn’t my first language so if there are errors please just let your inner voice autocorrect it.

Reblogs and feedback is always welcome here since I love seeing what you guys have to say or just seeing your reactions, stay safe ily 💟💟

-Rinnie <3

#jake sim #enhypen #jake x reader #jake smut #jake hard hours #jake hard thoughts #enhypen jake #enhypen x reader #enhypen ff #enhypen smau #heeseung x reader #jake smau #jake x you #enhypen smut #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enha #enha imagines #enha smut #enha x reader #enha jaeyun #enha jake #jaeyun scenarios #jaeyun imagines #jaeyun smau #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun fanfic #jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun #series: urmh!

[carmyboobear]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it. 

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love. 

tags for this ch: alcohol use, throwing up, semi-permanent lipstick, accidentally embarrassing carmy in front of all his coworkers

Chapter 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick (8k)

He doesn’t get to see them for a couple days after that night on the couch.

This is more the rhythm he’s used to—early mornings and late nights, out of the house so long he never sees them. The next several days blur together into what feels like one very, very long day. When he sleeps, he doesn’t dream. It often feels as if he didn’t sleep at all. 

Their past exchange haunts him. He catches himself slipping, lost in thoughts as he watches the pot simmer. They’ve never had any sort of conversation like that before. Sure, they didn’t really talk about anything, but…

But in that same vein, Carmy can’t stop thinking about it. He wonders if they’re thinking about it, too. The thought feels like a tangled ball of yarn in the pit of his stomach, writhing and messy. He shouldn’t be thinking about it—they’re just roommates, after all. 

He’s restlessly worried about that moment on the couch, and yet, he can’t even muster up the words as to why. 

Because if you finally say it, it’ll all be real, he thinks vaguely, somewhat hysterically to himself, and that’s where it always ends. 

Wednesday evening, he comes in from home exhausted as ever. Nothing new. He feels the strain in his wrist when he shoves his shitty front door open—obviously overdid it in the kitchen. After shoving his sneakers off, he flicks the lights on in the kitchen, and he spots a bright pink sticky note on the counter. 

Now that’s new.

He walks up to it, squinting at the pink that’s almost neon under the fluorescents. It’s a note from his roommate. 

hey carmy, it reads, scribbled on in pen. im going out with friends tonight, so I won’t be back until later + leftovers in the fridge if you want any :)

Carmy makes a small noise of acknowledgement to himself. Picks up the note, puts it back down. 

Running a hand through sweaty hair, he opens the fridge. It’s full of ingredients, perhaps far too many for a guy who barely cooks for himself. Ironically enough, it’s the one who doesn’t cook for a living who keeps the fridge stocked. There's a lot of miscellaneous sauces, near empty coffee creamers, and mysterious tupperwares.

He spots a new tupperware that has another pink sticky note on it, so he grabs that one out of the fridge. 

He pops it open. There’s condensation on the inside of the lid, and it drips onto the floor. Inside sits pasta, potatoes, chicken, onions, and peppers, all cooked into a cheap, yet harmonious meal. It’s a familiar instant pot recipe. 

It tastes familiar, too. The ingredients together taste like home. He’s not sure if it even tastes like his home, although surely his mom cooked something like this. As he stews over the flavors in his mouth, Italian seasoning, garlic, and black pepper, he wonders if maybe this apartment is starting to feel like home. 

The thought is so ridiculous he shakes his head to himself, but…

It feels warm coming home to someone. He can’t deny that he likes that feeling. Maybe he’s settling into this place more than he thought. Maybe he’s…getting more used to having a roommate than he expected.

Maybe I’ll see them tomorrow, he thinks as he stares at his dark bedroom ceiling. He’s so sleepy he can’t even help himself from thinking about them. The lethargy always goes full blast as soon as his back hits the mattress.

Graciously, he doesn’t dream when he sleeps. Unfortunately, he wakes back up again in only a matter of hours. 

When he reluctantly wakes up and squints at his phone, he sighs. 1:14 am. Slapping his phone back down on his side table, he stubbornly shuts his eyes in an attempt to go back to bed. It would’ve been too nice if his body let him sleep throughout the night. 

Then, there’s the sound of the door opening.

He listens to the familiar sound of their footsteps against their old hardwood floor. It’s admittedly a little strange—it’s usually the other way around, with Carmy coming back home so late they’re already asleep. Except for this time. 

They’re in the kitchen, he deduces, carefully listening. It’s easy to hear everything, especially in the quiet of night. As he closes his eyes again, listening, he imagines them. 

The sound of the fridge opening. No, the freezer—it always squeaks when it opens. It shuts. Yes, now that’s the fridge door. He imagines them looking into the fridge just like he was a couple of hours ago, tilting their head thoughtfully to the side. He’s not sure if they know that they do that. 

By all means, it should be disruptive, the way they’re opening and shutting cabinets in the kitchen. And yet, as he lays there, snuggled drowsily into his sheets, it starts to sound like a lullaby. He listens to them, thinking of them cooking, and he begins to drift to sleep.

“Fuck—fuck! Shit shit shit—”

There’s a sharp yelp, and Carmy’s jumping out of bed. 

If he’s being honest, he probably wasn’t actually going to fall back asleep so easily anyway. He rarely ever does. 

He stumbles into the brightly lit kitchen, dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. The lights are so bright that he’s squinting, struggling to adjust. 

“Sorry if I woke you up, there was a roach,” they explain meekly before he can think of what to say. They’re standing there, bottle of roach killer in their hand. 

Carmy looks down. As expected, there’s a big dead roach, sitting in a pale pool of roach killer. 

“I…see.” He yawns, a big one that makes the corners of his eyes tear up. “You didn’t wake me up, I was already awake. You just got back?”

“Mhm,” they reply, reaching for some paper towels, and that’s when Carmy really notices their outfit. Black, flashy, clearly meant for a night out at a bar. Dark colors always looked good on them. Their makeup matches, dark and smudged around their eyes. Seeing them dressed up like this makes it nearly impossible to deny how much he likes looking at them. 

He in particular likes the plunging neckline on their thin shirt, dipping right down their chest.

Stop stop stop, he thinks suddenly, tearing his eyes away. He’s lucky they’re not looking at him, instead preoccupied with throwing away the roach corpse on the floor. He looks around almost a little frantically to find something, anything else to talk about.

“What’s this?” Carmy asks, peering into the pan on the stovetop. 

“I, like, really want garlic bread right now.” They lean onto the counter, looking at the pan with him. “So I was making garlic bread. But then that fucking roach came and killed my vibe.” 

This is when Carmy notices that they’re rather drunk.

“Huh,” he says. “Isn’t this, uh, just a piece of bread?”

“Oh.” They pause, lifting the bread gingerly with one finger. “Um, this is so totally a piece of bread. No butter. No nothing.” They start laughing then, leaning harder onto the counter and covering their face. “Fuck, that is so  dumb.”

“You were getting there,” he comments, unable to resist an amused smile. 

“I couldn’t find the garlic powder,” they admit, face turning into a frown. “Or, like, anything else. But I need garlic bread, Carmy. I need this.”

“We have garlic cloves,” he points out.

“You cannot expect me to mince a fuckin’ garlic right now,” they retort, motioning at him with their arms so aggressively they stumble towards him. Instinctively, he puts his hands on their shoulders, and tries not to think too hard about it. 

They’re warm, and they smell like perfume, weed, and alcohol. 

“I think you should sit.” Carmy suggests, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t think he’s seen them this drunk before.

“Hm. Yeah. Imma do that.” They trudge over to one of their bar stools at the kitchen island, slumping onto it. Their shirt droops, revealing more skin, and Carmy pointedly looks away. There’s the sound of their forehead smacking against the counter, and then a groan. 

“Uh, you ok?” 

“I’m drunk and I want garlic bread,” they whine, flopping their arms across the counter. “But I can’t find the garlic—the garlic powder, and…I’m too stupid to make it right now,” they end in a miserable mumble. 

“I could make you some,” Carmy hears himself saying.

“...Really?” They tilt their head up to look at him, eyes big and full of wonder. “You would do that for me?”

“It’s just garlic bread,” he tries, instantly stricken with embarrassment. He hopes he’s hiding it well enough.

“But you’re making it!” They make a contented noise. “Imagine getting the best chef in the world to make you garlic bread.”

“I can do a lot better than garlic bread. Just so you know,” he says, entirely in an attempt to hide the way their praise makes him feel giddy. 

“I know.” His attempt backfires—their response is so genuine it makes him feel worse. “You could definitely do a million times better than garlic bread.”

“Maybe not quite a million, but somewhere around there,” he says, and then he starts working. 

He starts with a clove of garlic, mincing it quickly on their small wooden cutting board. He stands at the kitchen island with them, eyes flickering between the garlic and their watchful gaze. They’re still strewn across the counter, cheek pressed against the surface. 

“You literally mince garlic so good,” they mumble, eyes glued to his knife. “I wanna do it like you.” 

“I could teach you.” The garlic is chopped thin, and then scraped against the edge of his knife. “Just takes a lot of practice, really.”

“Teacher Carmy,” they say, almost like a song. They’ve got this big, dopey smile on their face that makes Carmy’s heart hurt. “Mr. Berzattooo,” they add, their smile growing more mischievous.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that,” he admits, words tinged with amusement, and they laugh. “I think we should just stick to chef.”

“Yes, chef!” They salute unnecessarily, and he chuckles. 

He takes out the butter—their nice butter, not the spread stuff. Heats it over their pan, scrapes the minced garlic into the hot butter, creating a delicious sizzle.

“You, uh, go out to a bar?” He asks, because he’s curious. It’s easier talking to them with his back turned to them, forced to face the pan. 

“Yeah, just went with a couple of friends. I wasn’t scheduled for tomorrow, so I thought a little fun would be nice. But I must say, bars are not exciting on Wednesday nights.”

“Seems like you got to have a good time anyway.” 

“Mhm, yeah. They had cheap drinks. I got so many.” They laugh. “They honestly didn’t taste that good.” 

“And you kept getting them?”

“It’s just ‘cause they were strong. Sometimes you just wanna get fucked up, y’know? Oh my god, it smells so fuckin’ good right now. What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s just butter and garlic,” he answers honestly. 

“This is the best thing ever. You are literally so nice.” The sincerity in their words is so palpable that Carmy feels his stomach twist. “Anyone would be so lucky to be with you.”

Fuck, Carmy thinks distantly. He adamantly refuses to acknowledge how this comment makes him feel.

“I dunno about that,” he replies, a safe neutral even though he can’t help the embarrassment. 

“Really?” They blow a raspberry at him. “Well, I like having you as my roommate. That’s something, right?”

Carmy’s glad he’s not facing them. He’s not sure what his expression looks like right now. 

“Well. Lucky for me, I guess.” He pauses, listening to the sizzle of the garlic. for a moment. “You’re a good roommate, too. I…didn’t know if I would like having one at all.”

“Oh yeah? You never had one before?”

“Not since culinary school, and they weren’t good.” He sighs at the memory. “But this…I like this.”

“I like it too,” they agree, almost a bit dreamily. “It’s nice not having to be by yourself all the time.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It is.”

He turns around then, garlic bread plated and in his hand, and they gasp, hands over their mouth. 

“Carmy,” they whisper. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” he says, smiling in endearment.

“Um, yeah. And you just made me garlic bread. To a drunk person, garlic bread is the next coming of Christ.” They slide the plate towards them, staring at it with big eyes. “And you put cheese on it!” 

“Should I not have?”

“Of course you should have!” They exclaim. “You could’ve put some shit on this I’ve never heard of and I would still eat it. You’re a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Well.” He laughs. Shakes his head. “I’m flattered?”

“You should be,” they whisper. They take a huge bite of it, resounding with a satisfying crunch. “Fuck.” They shake their head from side to side as they eat. “This is so fuckin’ yummy.”

“Good, good.” He nods, pleased. He props his elbows up on the counter, gauging their reaction.

“You are so talented,” they gush, continuing to eat urgently. “And so nice.”

Carmy knows he can’t hide the way his ears go pink. 

“Well.” He gives them a shrug he knows looks as half-hearted as it feels. “I do nice things for nice people,” he says finally, mostly because he can't just take the damned compliment.

“I'm nice people?” They repeat, so genuinely earnest that Carmy almost laughs. “That's a relief. I’m, like, so glad you think that, because I can be an annoying piece of shit sometimes.”

“Annoying?” The self deprecation surprises him. They don’t usually talk like this. “I don’t—I don’t think you’re annoying. Have I ever, uh, seemed like I—?”

“Nonono, it has nothing to do with you,” they interrupt with a hiccup, waving their hands. “I just, like, have issues.” They laugh, although Carmy’s positive there’s nothing funny about this. “And I really like you as a, as a roommate,” they stutter clumsily. “So I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“I, I don’t think you would fuck it up.” There’s something a little unsettling about all this, something that’s putting Carmy on edge. 

“I always find a way! I just do, because, I’m—I’m not good at being a person,” they blurt out, and then there’s tears spilling all over their cheeks, streaked with black mascara. 

Shit, Carmy thinks. 

“Hey,” Carmy says softly, gentle and careful. He looks up at them, concerned eyes searching their watery ones. He wishes he had the words, but they're talking again. 

“I just can’t do anything right,” they sob, bottom lip wobbling. He’s also not sure if he’s ever seen them crying so hard. Their face is scrunched in pain, skin drenched in tears. “I, I, I can't even fucking make garlic bread!”

“You're drunk,” he reminds them, carefully. “Very drunk.”

“I'm drunk, too,” they wail, and Carmy wonders if he said the wrong thing. “I'm a drunk fuck-up! I, I'm too damaged…”

“Damaged?” He echoes. Their own brutality towards themself takes his words away, and all he can do is repeat their cruelty in disbelief.

“My whole life, I've just,” they whisper, and something about it nestles into his chest and stays there. The feeling of it is familiar. “My—my whole life, I—oh, god—” 

They stop with a sharp inhale, slapping their hand on their mouth. It’s a movement that Carmy would recognize just about anywhere.

“Shit,” he curses, and he rushes them to the bathroom. 

They’re still crying as they throw up into the toilet, apologizing profusely. Carmy tries not to look, just focusing on holding up their hair. 

“I’m sorry,” they apologize again before shoving their face back into the toilet. 

“It’s okay. It happens.”  He absentmindedly notices that he’s never touched their hair before. It’s soft—must be well taken care of. “You’re doing great right now, okay?” 

“Thank you,” they sob, tilting their head to the side to rest their cheek on the toilet seat. He lets their hair fall behind them, instead just keeping one hand on their back. “I’m really s-sorry,” they say again, eyes watery and red. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, because it's all he can say. They seem grateful enough.

I haven’t thrown up like this since college,” they tell him miserably. “I don’t like it.” 

“Nobody likes throwing up,” he reasons, and they make a weak noise of agreement. 

“Last time, I threw up in my roommate’s bathroom—” they pause, as if fighting a wave of nausea, but it seems to pass. “And I barely missed the toilet,” they whisper, like it’s some sort of dark secret. 

“Damn.” Carmy’s not sure if he should be smiling, but he is, just a little bit. “Sounds like you were shitfaced.”

“So shitfaced,” they echo. At least they’re smiling back at him. That’s a good sign. “It was such a mess. I felt so bad.” 

“Were they mad?”

“No, they weren’t. They even cleaned it up for me.” They groan. “I felt soooo bad, Carmy. So bad. I was worried they would forever hate me for that.” 

“Well, if they weren’t mad at you, I’m sure they wouldn’t hate you for it.”

“I just really didn’t want them to hate me,” they say, and they’re looking so intently into Carmy eyes that it feels like he’s bearing his soul to them. “Are you gonna hate me?”

“I'm not gonna hate you because you're throwing up.” Their hair’s falling into their face, and he moves to tuck it behind their ear before he can think about it. Their cheeks are hot to the touch.  “Would I be doing this for someone I hate?”

“Good point,” they mumble. Carmy’s hand lingers behind their ear before moving back to the middle of their back, rubbing little circles. The touch is guiltily electric on his end. “Sometimes I just…think people are waiting for a chance to hate me.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for me to find an excuse to dislike you,” Carmy says. “But…I get it.”

“...You do?” 

“Yeah,” he says, even though he’s not sure what else to say. They’re still looking at him, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “I’m not used to anyone caring much about me.”

“I care about you,” they whisper. “I care about you a lot.”

Silence settles between them as any words Carmy had disappear on the tip of his tongue. They just keep looking at him, their eyes gentle and searching, and he can’t tear his gaze away. He can’t tear his hand off their back, either. 

“You shouldn't,” he whispers, strangely honest. “I'm not worth it.”

“Too bad.” He can't look away from their gaze, their eyes that are infinitely knowledgeable. “If I can't care about you, you have to stop being nice to me.”

Carmy opens his mouth to protest, but he can't. They seem to know it, too, with the way a knowing smile creeps up their face.

“I don't wanna do that,” he replies finally. 

“Thought so.” Their face glows brilliantly with a smile, and it should be infuriating, but it's not. “So deal with it. Me caring about you.”

He laughs at that, because it's so stupid. 

“Stupid,” he laughs, and they laugh back, their giggles echoing into the ring of the toilet. “Y'know, I fucked up today at work.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?”

“I was cutting onions. I've done it a million times, but for some reason, I fucked it all up. Onions got all over the floor, and I had to redo it all. Well, my sous had to redo ‘em.”

He's not sure why he's mentioning this to them, or why he's even mentioning it for a second time, but he is. 

“I haven't fucked up like that in forever,” he continues, reliving the memory in the back of his brain. The knife hitting the floor, metal against linoleum. “It was stupid. I hadn't done something so fucking, stupid like that in—god knows how long.” 

That can't be the point, he thinks to himself. He can't just bring up him messing up onions just to complain about messing up onions. That's not worth anything, to him or to them. They're drunk, anyhow. Why is he bringing up his issues like this, right now?

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” they say with surprisingly clarity. Their words carry a measured gentleness that doesn't seem possible from a drunk. “It would be crazy if you never messed up, y'know. Like, ever.”

“But it's been years,” he protests. There's a pressure building. “Years since I messed up like that. And someone had to clean up after my shit. They shouldn't have had to do that.”

“Hm…” They make a thoughtful noise. “It's not like you did it on purpose, right?”

“Of course not.”

“That's what friends are for,” they murmur. “And coworkers. Sometimes. It's ok that you messed up.”

“...” A part of Carmy wants to continue protesting, but it feels futile. “I shouldn't have brought it up, you're still drunk anyway,” he says, mostly to himself, but also because he can't stand to acknowledge it anymore.

“I don't care,” they whisper. “I like it when people talk to me about things.” Carmy feels something twist in his stomach, palpable and physical. 

“I’m probably being annoying,” he mutters, and as soon as the words come out of his mouth, he wants to bash his head in for saying something so childish. 

“No. You’re not.” They respond before he has a chance to take it back. “I want to know you, Carmy.”

“You already know me.”

“Not as much as I would like,” they mutter, eyes fluttering shut, and Carmy has no choice but to swallow the heavy truth. 

“You shouldn't fall asleep here. If you're feeling better, we need to get you into your bed.” He knows it's unfair, changing the subject like this. But he can't bear to look at it anymore than he already has. 

Luckily for him, they relent without any protest. They lean up against him as he helps them to their room. It's a bit difficult to wade through the piles of clothes on the floor, but Carmy's no better. 

“I really didn't mean to get this fucked up,” they mumble once they're laid back in bed. 

“No one does.”

“Maybe not no one,” they mutter, mostly to themself. No comment. They sigh. “What time is it?”

“Uh…2:35,” he says after a beat, searching eyes landing on their bedside analog clock.

“Motherfucker. I'm sorry. Don't you have work tomorrow?”

“I do. But…it's fine.” It's very much not fine, he has to wake up in a couple hours, and yet. Here he is, at the end of it. 

“You're sweet. You really are.” 

“I'm…not sweet,” is all he can get out, voice quiet. 

“Well, I think you're sweet to me. Taking care of me like this.” They outstretch their arms all of a sudden. “Come here? Please?”

He knows what they're asking. They've never hugged before. He’s only a hugger when it comes to family. He's seen them hug friends before, maybe, but him? Never. 

He shouldn't get closer, he really shouldn't. But he ends up doing it anyway, because he tells himself he likes the way they say please.

“Can I hug you?” They ask.

“Um,” he says. He nods.

They smile again, as brilliant as ever, and bring him into a tight hug. They smell like the mint mouthwash they insisted Carmy retrieve for them, along with their perfume.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” they say. He’s never heard their voice in his ear like this before. They wrap their arms around his neck then, and Carmy’s heart feels like it’s in his throat. 

“No problem,” he gets out, feeling a bit breathless. 

Before he can even form the next thought, they’re pressing a sleepy kiss on their cheek before flipping back down on their bed. 

Carmy feels like throwing up, but…not in a bad way.

“Good night,” they mumble, so sweet. “And thank you.”

Something in his brain shuts off after that. He walks to his room like a zombie, and he falls asleep nearly instantly. 

It turns out that going to bed at 2:30 am the night before work is not so fine at all. 

“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t sleep,” Carmy says groggily when he comes in, and everyone’s eyes are on him. They’re staring so intently like there’s something on his face. “What?”

“It’s, uh,” Sydney starts, but Richie swiftly cuts her off.

“Must’ve been a long night, eh?” Richie says with such a shit eating grin that makes Carmy pinch his eyebrows. 

“Fuck’s your deal?” Carmy bites back, gesturing at him. The length of his fuse matches the amount of sleep he got—slim to none.

“Nothing, cousin,” Richie replies, even though he’s still grinning like a mad man. “You better be telling me about it later though, got it?”

“Whatever,” Carmy mutters. It’s too early in the day to be dealing with this shit. “Just catch me up on what I missed.”

The day starts off rough, but he gets through it because he has to. Throughout the day, though, he can’t help but get the feeling that people keep looking at him when he’s not looking. Maybe it’s just his typical paranoia, but… 

“These look good,” Carmy praises. “Really good,” he reiterates, turning the delicate dessert around on its circular plate. Marcus beams, clearly pleased. It’s a small matcha cake with carefully placed layers of ganache and fruit. Carmy takes a bit of it with a fork, rolling the earthy and tangy flavors around on his tongue. 

“How is it?” Marcus asks, eyes firm on him.

“A little crumbly,” Carmy answers honestly. “Did you take my advice from last time?”

“I did,” he replies, frustration evident in his voice. “Think it’s the oven?”

“Maybe. Probably.” Carmy takes another bite. “Try a lower temp. Other than that, though, it’s excellent.”

“Thank you, chef,” Marcus says. “Means a lot.”

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” He claps Marcus on the back, short and quick. “You’ve been working hard. That’s all.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.” He pauses then, staring at Carmy. Just like how everyone has been all damn day. “Uh, Chef?”

“What?” He feels the impatience bubbling up in him, frustrated and confused. “People have been staring at my goddamn face all day like I got some shit on it.”

“You do,” Marcus says. “It’s not shit, though. Looks like…lipstick,” he says after a beat. 

“Lipstick?” A rock drops in his stomach. Carmy raises his hand to his face, searching. 

“On your left,” he clarifies. “By your ear.”

He rubs aggressively there, but he pulls his fingers back without any color on it.

“Did I get it?”

“Well, I thought you did.” Marcus makes a noise, thoughtful. “Guess it’s one of those permanent ones.”

“Permanent?” Carmy repeats, a little hysterical. 

“Semi permanent,” Marcus clarifies. He seems amused.

Carmy rushes into their small, shitty bathroom, getting close to the streaked mirror. He angles his head to find the stain. Sure enough, it’s right here on his cheek. It’s a dark, reddish color, in the smeared but recognizable shape of a kiss mark.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. His head feels hot. It must’ve happened last night, when they kissed him right before falling asleep. 

Semi-permanent, he hears Marcus say in the back of his head. Of course it is.

With a wet paper towel, he scrubs at the mark so hard it hurts. Even so, it remains, still clear on his pale, reddened skin. He wishes his hair was long enough to hide it.

“It’s not coming off,” he says, stressed upon returning to Marcus’ station. He hopes he doesn’t sound as hysterical as he feels. Sydney’s there too, chewing on the matcha pastry Carmy had earlier. “Why the fuck isn’t it coming off?”

“You’ll probably need a makeup wipe. I think I have some in my bag if you want one,” Sydney offers. Carmy swears she has a halo around her head. “Just a warning, though, they’re old as fuck. I haven’t worn makeup in a long time.”

“It’s fine. Can I take one?” Carmy runs a stressed hand through his hair. “Can’t believe no one fuckin’ told me. I—I fucking greeted customers like this!”

“It’s cool, Carm. At least it wasn’t a hickey,” Marcus reasons, and Carmy thinks his ears go hot. 

“Thank god,” he replies, sarcastic, and they have the nerve to laugh at him. “Shut up,” he tries, but there’s no real heat behind it. Sydney leaves and comes back with a semi-dried up makeup a minute later. 

“Don’t get mad if it doesn’t work,” Sydney states, a cautionary disclaimer. “It might be one of those that has a specific remover.”

“Are you serious?” The sigh that comes out is full of disdain. “Fuck me.”

“Day’s already almost done, if it makes it any better,” Marcus notes with a cheeky smile, and Carmy just shakes his head.

The makeup wipe doesn’t work. Carmy tries not to get mad, but maybe he does. Maybe just a little bit.

“It’ll come off with enough washes,” Sydney reassures him. Tina’s standing with her now, too, eyeing him like a spectacle. Everyone seems to be enjoying his misery. 

“Just ask your girl to get rid of it for you,” Tina says, an eyebrow raised. She raises a thumb to his cheek, rubs at the mark like a mom. “Damn. Shit’s on there.”

“They’re not—it’s not like that,” he sputters. He’s been trying to get through the day without anyone asking about it, but now that there’s some down time, there’s no stopping anyone. 

“A one night stand?” Tina guesses, eyes widening. She laughs and smacks him on the arm. “Didn’t think you had it in you, boy!”

“It’s not that, either,” Carmy stresses. He knows he’s getting overly flustered about it, but he can’t help it. His eyes flicker towards the clock. They’re closing soon. “Just forget it, okay? Please.”

He can tell from their expressions that neither of them want to forget about it, but by some stroke of luck, they’re considering letting it go. Just for now. That’s enough of a victory for now, so he’ll take it.

At least, it would’ve been a victory if Richie didn’t take that very opportunity to step into the kitchen. 

“Been trying to find you all day, bastard!” Richie hollers, slinging an arm over Carmy’s hunched shoulder. Carmy sighs, expressive in his annoyance. “Looks like this baby’s finally growing up, huh?”

“I’m 30, asshole,” Carmy says, tiredly, but that never works. Richie’s still talking, anyhow. 

“So? Do I know the chick?” Richie’s grin makes Carmy want to punch him.

“No,” he replies, flatly. He’s so tired. “And it’s not what you think. It was just, they’re, uh…”

“Oh shit, cousin!” Richie’s laughing, obnoxiously loud in his ears. “Didn’t think you were capable of—“

“It’s not a one night stand. Already guessed that,” Tina interrupts him. 

“What?” He sounds annoyed, like he has the right to be more irritated than Carmy himself. “Then what’s the secret third option? Or are you lying to my face?”

“They’re my roommate,” Carmy explains, finally.

There’s a beat of silence. And then, uproarious noise.

“You have a roommate?” Is Richie’s first question. The second: “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Is, like, dating a roommate a good idea? No offense,” Sydney says, hands raised in defense. “Just wondering.”

“It’s not,” Tina answers for her, sharp eyes narrowed at him. But strangely enough, she’s smiling nonetheless. 

“They’re my roommate, we’re not dating, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be weird about it!” He shouts over the noise, directing the last one at Richie. “Look—they were just drunk, and I was helping them because they were fucking throwing up. Happy now?”

“And they kissed you,” Richie points out. He’s grinning like he knows some big secret.

“Fuck, okay, can we stop fucking talking about this now? It was just an accident, it’ll be gone tomorrow, and we’re never gonna mention this shit again!”

Carmy gets saved by some distant catastrophic noise in the back, somewhere around the freezer. He leaves without a word. Behind him, he hears raucous laughter mostly to Richie’s tune.

Before he leaves for the night, he stops by the bathroom one more to try and get it off. Predictably, it remains stubborn and stalwart through soap, hot water, and scrubbing. The skin under it is red with irritation, and Carmy knows that he's getting nowhere. If anything, he's making it worse. 

His eyes linger on the blotted lipstick on his face. It's smudged, but he can see the cracks and the shape of their lips. His gaze follows the lines of it. 

The memory burns bright in his head for a split second. It bursts in like a flashbang, intense and unavoidable. There's a phantom sensation of their lips on his cheek, the smell of their perfume, the warmth of their embrace, and it's, it's just—

Carmy shuts the lights off and heads out. He needs this lipstick mark gone by morning. 

When he gets home, the apartment is dark. Unoccupied. As he flicks on the lights, he searches for them. They're usually home before him most nights. However, it seems tonight is an anomaly. He walks down the hallway past his room to theirs, and their ajar door reveals an empty bedroom.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. Just his luck. 

He opens his phone then, a last resort. He has his messages pulled up, but his thumbs hover over the keyboard and stay there. 

How the hell does he even word this?

Hey, I need lipstick remover. 

No, that isn't enough information. Who knows how many types of remover there could be? What if it isn't the right one? He needs to be more specific. 

Hey, I need lipstick remover for the lipstick you were wearing last night. 

That sounds even stranger. Too specific, although it's the truth. That's what he needs. But he can't just…type that, can he? No, there's no way. 

Is there any way he can get out of saying that there's lipstick on his face from last night and not make it weird? He wishes they were here so he could just show them. Words have never been his forte. There's little hope for him now. 

Please come home right now, he briefly considers typing. It's by far the worst one out of all of them. 

After pacing for a solid five minutes, he decides to send a hopefully neutral message. 

Hey, you out for the night?

It's still pretty weird. Carmy is not a texter. There's not much he needs to talk about that can't wait until he sees them next. They're usually the one texting him, and it's usually only about groceries or bills. However, he tells himself it's fine because there's no note left on the counter. They always leave a note when they go out.

…They always leave a note when they go out. 

This thought resets his pacing around the apartment, frantically looking for the square shape and vivid color of a sticky note. That's how they usually do it, and it's typically on the kitchen counter. So, it's honestly a futile effort to be looking around the whole place, but he does so anyway. 

He looks at his phone. It's been almost 10 minutes, and still no response. 

This isn't unnatural by any means. They always end up responding eventually, but the prickling anxiety is getting pricklier by the second. 

They've got to be so hungover. There's no way they're out again tonight, he thinks to himself, and he's positive it has to be true. 

They're missing, and you're not ever gonna get this shit off your face, his brain adds helpfully. 

That's what finally kicks him into gear and forces him to press the call button. 

It rings for a long time. The more it rings, the longer he stands there in the kitchen, the stupider and more anxious he feels. It's a pitiful feeling to be consumed by, but here he is, unable to resist. 

However, when they finally pick up, he's not sure if he feels completely relieved. A different part of his anxiety is spiking now.

“Carmy?” Their voice carries a trace of static through the phone speaker. 

“Yeah, hey. You see my text?”

“Oh, oops. Sorry, I missed it. Is everything ok?”

“Where are you?” He asks instead. 

“I'm just gettin’ a drink from the corner store. Why? You want me to grab something for you?”

The absolute nonchalance in their voice humbles him, reducing him to complete embarrassment.

“Uh, no, I don't need anything. I mean, uh, I do actually need something from you, though,” he amends hastily. 

“Sure, what's up? I guess it must be important if you're calling, right?”

“I, um—yeah, kinda important,” he says with attempted tranquility, completely ignoring how much he was freaking out earlier.  “So…you got, uh, lipstick remover?”

“Lipstick remover?” Their surprise makes him shrivel. “Well, I have a couple types of makeup remover…”

“I think it needs to be specific?”

“You think it needs to be specific? What exactly are we dealing with here?” Their voice carries bewildered amusement.

“It's, uh…” He swallows. He can't tiptoe around it anymore. “It's…yours?”

“...Huh?”

“You got some lipstick on me last night, and it's not coming off,” he says finally, mortifyingly, and the line goes silent. 

“Fucking—I'm so sorry, my memory is spotty from last night and I, I thought I imagined that, and, uh—” They awkwardly clear their throat. “I'm sorry, I really am. It's not supposed to transfer like that, but I guess it just…”

“It's okay,” he says, despite how hysterical it made him earlier. That part isn't their fault. “It's just, uh, really staying on there.”

“Shit. Of course. It's this super resilient lipstick I use for when I go out drinking, because it's not supposed to come off like, at all, so it comes with this specific remover—I'm sorry, I don’t need to be rambling like this.” They laugh nervously. “I'm on my way home now, but it should be on my desk if you wanna look at it. It's a black tube, which…isn't very specific, I guess. And my desk is really messy…”

“I'll start looking,” Carmy decides. 

“I'm sorry,” they reply miserably. 

“It's okay. You said you were coming home now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Cool. See you.”

The call ends. Carmy just stands there for a minute. It's like a tidal wave just rushed over him, and now the water is slowly settling to a stand still. 

Black tube, he thinks. How hard can that be?

Very hard, it seems. 

Their room is comfortably messy. Definitely not as messy as his. There's some clothes on the floor, jackets on chairs, underwear he turns his gaze away from (don't imagine them in that lace one lying in the corner or the flowery one or the fucking thong he didn't see anything), but that's about it. Nothing outside of typical clutter, in his opinion. 

The desk, though. The desk. 

He doesn't think he can even see the surface of it. There's just lots of little things scattered across it, from piles of jewelry to stacks of papers and books. It's like an ispy book. 

He stares at it, trying to find a black tube. He quickly realizes how much of a futile effort it's going to be. 

In this moment, he thinks about how he's never spent much time in their room. The two of them usually hang out in the living room. Besides, he's not one to go snooping around in someone's personal space. Until being pushed to his limits and being given explicit permission, that is.

He leans in, peering closer at the scattered items. There's a little bit of everything. Receipts, make-up brushes, scissors, paper scraps, empty water cups, hair ties, empty candy wrappers, lipsticks…none of which are black tubes. 

Maybe it's not on their desk. Maybe it's on a different shelf. 

They said it was on their desk, a voice in his head says, but he’s not listening.

The next closest thing is their nightstand. It's a little messy, but nowhere near as bad as their desk. There's a melatonin bottle, some lip balm, a bedside lamp. He squints, seeing what might be more pills or maybe skincare until a dark tube catches his eye.

When he picks it up, he realizes it's not black, instead being a dark blue. Also, it's not a tube, it's more of a bottle.

The text on it also reads as lube, not lipstick remover. 

…Lube?

It's lube, his brain repeats, helpful as ever. 

I can see that, he thinks back.

“Hello? Carmy?”

A familiar voice has him scrambling to put the lube back. He moves it back to the night stand more quickly than he could have ever expected of himself. 

“Hey, I'm in your room,” he calls back, hoping that his fabricated nonchalance comes off as believable. He steps out of their room into the hallway, and they appear at the end of it. 

The first he notices is how much better they look when he saw them last. To be fair, the last time he saw them, they were sobbing and throwing up into the toilet, drunk out of their mind, but still. It's still an improvement. Their cheeks are flushed from the cold, and their hair is mussed from being outside.

“Hey. Did you find it?” 

“I couldn't find it,” he admits. He steps out of the way to let them through, and then he follows them back into their room. 

“Yeah, sorry, my desk is a fucking nightmare,” they mutter darkly, making a beeline for their desk. “I swear I took it out and put it right here…Ah, yes!”

Miraculously, they pull it out. It looks like a lipstick in itself, and when they uncap it, it just looks like a white lip balm. 

“So, do I just…rub it on?”

“Well—yeah, you should, but it emulsifies with water, so you just use water and then use a cotton pad…” Carmy supposes the confusion isn't too well masked on his face. “Can I see where it is?” They ask tentatively. 

Wordlessly, Carmy turns his head. He supposes they're just glad they didn't see it immediately.

“Oh.” When he turns to face them again, their cheeks are dark with color. It's not a look he's used to seeing on them. “I'm sorry,” they say again with a downturned head. 

“It's okay,” Carmy says again, and he means it. He brings a hand to his cheek subconsciously. “I just…”

“Let me take it off,” they insist, guilt knitted in their expression, and that's how Carmy ends up seated on the toilet seat. 

“Now I'm the one getting patched up on the toilet,” he says quietly. He wonders if it was the wrong thing to say, but it makes them laugh.

“So, um, when did you notice?” They ask. The tube uncaps with a small pop.

“A couple hours ago,” he admits. The balm feels smooth and oily against his cheek. “I had no idea, but my coworkers, uh…”

“Oh my god,” they mutter under their breath. “I just don't think I'm ever gonna stop apologizing for this.”

“It's fine, really,” he insists, even though he was manically scrubbing at his skin earlier. “It was sorta funny,” he adds, even though he was freaking out while everyone else was laughing. They don't need to know. 

“That's good, at least.”

“Yeah. It was—uh…”

He feels their thumb rubbing circles into his cheek, and the words disintegrate like sand in the wind. 

“Sorry, this is just one of those things that takes a little bit of work to get off.” Their tone projects a casual indifference to it, but their voice is so quiet that it feels unfairly intimate. 

“I didn't know lipstick could be this…intense,” Carmy hears himself say. He's far away, still trapped in the feeling of their hand on his face. 

“It's what you need for an intense night out,” they reply with a small smile. He looks up at them then, meeting their dark eyes, but they're concentrated on the spot on his cheek. When they catch him looking, though, they don't look away.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks quietly. He can’t stop looking.

“A lot better. Yesterday was rough, but I'm feeling okay now.” 

“Good.”

“Yeah. Um…” They lean back, breaking eye contact, and Carmy feels a pressure releasing. They grab a wet paper towel and carefully drag it across his cheek. “Thanks again, by the way. For putting up with me last night. I mean, it was more than just putting up, but…y'know.”

“Sure,” he says, much softer than intended. “It happens.”

“I think you're just nice,” they tease, fully intended to be light-hearted, but because Carmy's the way that he is, it weighs heavily in his chest. 

“Sometimes,” he mumbles, because that's all he can bear to say.

Because last night, they looked him in the eyes and whispered that they wanted to know him. That they thought he was sweet, he was kind. They spoke with such earnestness that for a split second, Carmy considered believing them about everything, even though that’s always the wrong thing to do.

Because once he believes them a little bit, he’ll start acting like he’s a good person. He’ll fool everyone around him, even himself. 

Then, the inevitability that is his self-destruction will arrive like it’s always promised. He will mess everything up like he always does, sharp-edged flaws unfurling from the inside out. They’ll slice everyone he was able to fool into getting close enough.

The least he can do is try and give some kindness back before it happens.

“Just take the compliment,” they say with a small grin. “Y'know, I don't remember everything from last night. There's bits and pieces I know that're missing. But from what I do remember…” They make one final wipe at his cheek. “You have to let me be nice to you.”

He remembers, too. 

So deal with it, they had said. Me caring about you.

“How could I forget,” he tries to joke, but his laugh comes out sounding far too breathless. Luckily for him, their laugh, much more tangible and believable, joins his own. 

“I said some crazy shit last night, I know.” They take a seat next to him on the edge of the bathtub. “But I meant it. I like being your friend, Carmy. I hope I didn’t say too much.”

“You didn't say too much. You were just drunk.” He feels a bit stunned. 

“Okay,” they accept after a beat. “I mean, you're right. I was just drunk. Um…” They gesture towards his face. “I got the mark off, by the way.”

Carmy stands up and checks his face in the mirror. Sure enough, it's gone. He feels relief wash over him like a breeze, and another feeling he can't place. It's…It's…

“Thanks,” he says, and they nod. 

“It's the least I could do.” They stand up, too, and walk out of the bathroom. They stand in the doorway for a moment before looking at him. “I'm gonna smoke. You wanna join?”

It's…

“Yeah, for sure. I'll be just a sec.”

Then it's just him in the bathroom, the door shut as he stares at his reflection. The harsh fluorescent bathroom light casts harshly down the planes of his face, creating dark shapes on his face. He stares at the spot where the lipstick mark used to be. The longer he stares, the more the unnamed feeling stretches outwards. 

When it drops in his stomach, that’s when he realizes.

The feeling is disappointment.

~

@zorrasucia

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #WHEEEEE CHAPTER 2 LETS GO!!!!!! thanks everyone for the kind words on ch 1.... it made me very happy..... i love carmy so much. so very muc #this chapter is all over the place but that's just whats up #my stuff #my writing #also hello zs i hope that's what u meant by tagging u LOL i'm a newbie to this #my fics #carmy #reader #alexithymia fic

[wingedblooms]

Blooming dreams

Gardeners, I think, dream bigger dreams than emperors. (Mary Cantwell)

This meta is a continuation of my thoughts over the years, but especially the ones expressed in the following links. Please be aware that there are major hofas spoilers in this post and avoid if needed.

Secret, lovely seer / Forbidden secrets

A rose in the thorns / The flower of life

Seer, wise woman, witch / Three sisters witches / Starborn light

Since my first meta, I have been fixated on Elain’s connection to the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (let's call her Wyrd) and her potential powers, including sight, shapeshifting, and healing. They are all related when you’re talking about Wyrd, though I am not here to say what I have written is what Sarah has planned. This post is more a love letter to Sarah’s mystical and earthy depiction of Elain and what I would love to see in her story based on all the seeds she’s planted (and if there is an actual magical bean seed involved, I’ll love her all the more for it). Thanks especially to @psychologynerd for previewing this fever dream of a post.

I gazed again at that sad, dark house—the place that had been a prison. Elain had said she missed it, and I wondered what she saw when she looked at the cottage. If she beheld not a prison but a shelter—a shelter from a world that had possessed so little good, but she tried to find it anyway, even if it had seemed foolish and useless to me. She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger. (acotar)

From the first book in the series, Feyre recognizes that Elain views things differently. She views things that are sad and dark with hope, and that’s why Sarah has called her the quiet dreamer. It’s a strength that sets her apart. I like to think that’s also what the Cauldron—though warped by the Asteri—saw when she was forced into its womb. 

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain…Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes and I wondered if it may have recognized Elain as a kindred spirit, some echo of its Mother form. A creator, life-bringer. Were the waters of the Cauldron more like Silba’s Womb—a darkness of creation, sweet and lovely—when Elain was immersed? Or is it possible that when Elain entered its dark womb she viewed it differently than her sister? Did she see a wounded creator to help rather than an enemy to combat? 

Elain’s hopeful perspective might be why it gifted her with such powers, powers that we know allow her to see differently than others. And since it may have enhanced her unique perception, I wonder if it also enhanced her ability to bring life and beauty into the world. As a gardener, Elain is well acquainted with the task of envisioning her garden and then getting her hands dirty to make that vision a reality. Dream and reality are entwined in gardening, just like her Sight.

“She loves to garden. Always loved growing things. Even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. And when–when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you’ve ever seen. Even in Prythian. It drove the servants mad, because they were supposed to do the work and ladies were only meant to clip a rose here and there, but Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that.” (acowar)  If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta…she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. [...] Nesta stared them all down. Elain kept her focus on the dry, rocky ground. (acowar)  She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers–or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar) If Elain’s mental gates were those of a sleeping garden, Nesta’s…They belonged to an ancient fortress, sharp and brutal. The sort I imagined they once impaled people upon. (acowar)  “What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this…I think the world needs more gardens.” (acowar) 

As we saw in acosf for Nesta—a new type of warrior who forges magical swords and retrieves the Harp from an ancient fortress (the Prison) connected to the Starborn—these descriptions are clearly meant to foreshadow what occurs in the sisters’ stories. While Nesta is a freshly forged sword, Elain is blooming life in Illyria. And what do we learn in hofas? 

“The Cauldron,” Nesta said hours later, pointing to yet another carving on the wall. It indeed showed a giant cauldron, perched atop what seemed to be a barren mountain peak with three stars above it. Azriel halted, angling his head. “That’s Ramiel.” At Bryce’s questioning look, he explained, “A mountain sacred to the Illyrians.”  Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?” [...]  “All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas)

We receive confirmation that the Cauldron is associated with the sister peaks, as I suspected, and Ramiel in particular as @merymoonbeam has previously suggested. 

Before Bryce could contemplate this further, Silene went on, But my mother and father knew they needed the most valuable of all the Daglan’s weapons. Bryce tensed. This had to be the thing that had given them the edge— The snows around Ramiel parted, revealing a massive bowl of iron at the foot of the monolith. Even through the vision, its presence leaked into the world, a heavy, ominous thing. “The Cauldron,” Nesta said, dread lacing her voice. […] “The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.”  [...] “They fought the Daglan and won, she went on. Using the Daglan’s own weapons, they destroyed them. Yet my parents did not think to learn the Daglan’s other secrets—they were too weary, too eager to leave the past behind.” (hofas) 

In Forbidden secrets, I theorized that Elain’s powers might allow her to map the secrets of the land in order to heal it and @offtorivendell discussed magical mounds in her theory on reviving dusk. It seems like the Asteri did indeed leave secrets behind, which might explain why certain places continue to be forbidden and barren. But we are given hope that they do not need to remain that way. In hofas, Bryce wakes and wields the land belonging to her Starborn ancestors on the Prison island:

And precisely as Theia had gifted her own power to Silene … perhaps Silene had in turn left that same power here, to be claimed by a future scion. One by one, rapid as shooting stars, the thoughts raced through Bryce. More on instinct than anything else, she dropped to her knees and slammed her hand atop the eight-pointed star. Bryce reached with her mind, through layers of rock and earth—and there it was. Slumbering beneath her. Not firstlight, not as she knew it on Midgard—but raw Fae power from a time before the Drop. The power ascended toward her through the stone, like a glimmering arrow fired into the dark— [...] Like a small sun emerging from the stone itself, a ball of light burst from the floor. A star, twin to the one in Bryce’s chest. Her starlight at last awoke again, as if reaching with shining fingers for that star hovering inches away. With trembling hands, Bryce guided the star to the one gleaming on her chest. Into her body. White light erupted everywhere. Power, uncut and ancient, scorched through her veins. The hair on her head rose. Debris floated upward. She was everywhere and nowhere. She was the evening star and the last rays of color before the dark. Azriel had nearly reached the tunnel. Another flap of his wings and he’d be swallowed by its dark mouth. But at a mere thought from Bryce, stalactites and stalagmites formed, closing in on him. The room became a wolf, its jaws snapping for the winged warrior— The rock had moved for her, as it had for Silene. “Stop him,” she said in a voice that was more like her father’s than anything she’d ever heard come out of her mouth. Azriel swept for the tunnel archway—and slammed into a wall of stone. The exit had sealed. Slowly, he turned, wings rustling. Blood trickled out of his nose from his face-first collision with the rock now in his path. He spread his wings, bracing for a fight. The mountain shook, the chamber with it. Debris fell from the ceiling. Walls began shifting, rock groaning against rock. As if the place this had once been was fighting to emerge from the stone. [...] From far away, she could sense it: the things lurking within the mountain, her mountain. Twisted, wretched creatures. Some had been here since Silene had trapped them. Had been contemplating their escape and revenge all this time. She’d let them out if she restored the mountain to its former glory. And in that moment, the mountain—the island—spoke to her. Alone. It was so alone—it had been waiting all this time. Cold and adrift in this thrashing gray sea. If she could reach out, if she could open her heart to it…it might sing again. Awaken. There was a beating, vibrant heart locked away, far beneath them. If she freed it, the land would rise from its slumber, and such wonders would spring again from its earth— (hofas)

The mountain–Bryce’s mountain–speaks to her, asking her to open her heart to it so it can finally rise from its slumber. Cue internal screaming, my friends, because this language was intentional and it might finally explain Elain’s conversation in this scene: 

She looked away—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth. “When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” (acowar)

Elain’s hearing is a source of concern after she is Made because it is unusually heightened; she hears so many things, usually connected to the nature around her as @silverlinedeyes theorized. Like calls to like, and so she might be able to hear the beating heart of the land around her, even as it slumbers. Perhaps that is why her eyes were drawn to the barren ground in Illyria.

Vesperus, an Asteri trapped in a glass coffin below the Prison, tells us more about the connection between the Cauldron and the land: 

“I am the Evening Star,” Vesperus seethed. Bryce rolled her eyes. “Fine, we’ll call you the Evening Star, too. Happy?” “Is it not fitting?” A wave of long fingers capped in sharp nails. “I drank from the land’s magic, and the land’s magic drank from me.” [...] Vesperus folded her hands in her lap. “A planet that was once green, as this one is.” “And that wasn’t good enough?” “We grew too populous. Wars broke out between the various beings on our world. Some of us saw the changes in the land beginning—rivers run dry, clouds so thick the sun could not pierce them—and left. Our brightest minds found ways to bend the fabric of worlds. To travel between them. Wayfarers, we called them. World-walkers.” [...] “Once we left our home world, our powers began to dim. Too late, we realized that we had been dependent on our land’s inherent magic. The magic in other worlds was not potent enough. Yet we could not find the way back home. Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” Solas. “So destroy the Cauldron…” “And you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.”

This should come as no surprise because we saw this play out in acowar, but the Cauldron is tied to the soul of their world. The term soul is intentional, and we will return to it in a bit, but I started to wonder in Forbidden secrets about that connection. The influence of Wyrd is especially clear in the sacred peaks, where the Asteri left behind their secrets. Could Elain unravel the Asteri’s magic from the slumbering heart of the earth, and unbind the Cauldron as a result? Or will she need to go to Cretea to retrieve and purify the magic of the Asteri from the Cauldron like a healer would, in body and in spirit? (Hello, Nephelle celebrations, let’s go.) Nothing feels more right than seeing our strong-willed gardener get her hands dirty as she rips out the Asteri from the root, or beating heart, of their world. Sarah may have even hinted at this role for Elain as she describes getting into her mind for her book:

“There was literally ivy everywhere: in the garden beds, wrapped around the trees, crawling up the sides of the house. So I went into this obsessive, I-need-to-rip-out-every-last-strand-of-ivy-before-I-have-this-baby mode. And I remember the entire time I was ripping out the ivy, and trying to get some semblance of order into the garden beds, I just slipped into Elain’s head. Elain is a gardener, and everything I did during those weeks became research for her book. I’m not even joking. Elain’s now going to have dreams about ripping ivy out and the ivy creeping in through the windows to strangle her at night, because let me tell you, that ivy does not want to go.” (Sarah’s interview in acofas) 

English ivy is an aggressive invader and its hosts decline over time before they die. That’s exactly what the Asteri are: aggressive invaders that feed off of their hosts, warping the power of the land for their sole benefit, until it begins to wither away. In hofas, we learn that the Asteri hid their power throughout the land, including at the root of sacred mountains:

Vesperus backed up a half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.”

“There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly.

“Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.” (hofas)

And we see the moment Bryce discovers that Vesperus has hidden her power in the root of the Prison mountain, which is what sustains her and weakens the land: 

Bryce clutched the Starsword tighter. Its power thudded into her palms like a heartbeat. “But why store your power here? It’s an island—not exactly an easy pit stop.” “There are certain places, girl, that are better suited to hold power than others. Places where the veil between worlds is thin, and magic naturally abounds. Our light thrives in such environments, sustained by the regenerative magic of the land.” She gestured around them. “This island is a thin place—the mists around it declare it so.”  […] “Every world has at least one thin place,” Vesperus drawled. “And there are always certain people more suited to exploit it—to claim its powers, to travel through them to other worlds.” […] “Theia had the gift,” Vesperus said, “but did not understand how to claim the light. I made sure never to reveal how during her training—how she might light up entire worlds, if she wished, if she seized the power to amplify her own. But you, Light-Stealer…She must have passed the gift down to you. And it seems you have learned what she did not.”  Vesperus peered at her bare feet, the rock beneath. “Theia never learned how to access the power I cached beneath my palace. She had no choice but to leave it there, buried in the veins of this mountain. Her loss—and my gain.” Oh gods. There was a fucking firstlight core here, far beneath their feet— (hofas)

These thin places are where ley lines—highways for magic and communication—overlap, allowing travel for those who are suited to it (wayfarers). Starborn and Asteri alike seem to be suited to these places, and have used them to store their power, causing the land around it to wither. 

“Ley lines,” Bryce breathed. Aidas nodded. “These lines are capable of moving magic, but also carrying communications across great distances.” Like those between the Gates of Crescent City, the way she’d spoken to Danika the day she’d made the Drop. “There are ley lines across the whole of the universe. And the planets—like Midgard, like Hel, like the home world of the Fae—atop those lines are joined by time and space and the Void itself. It thins the veils separating us. The Asteri have long chosen worlds that are on the ley lines for that exact purpose. It made it easier to move between them, to colonize those planets. There are certain places on each of these worlds where the most ley lines overlap, and thus the barrier between worlds is at its weakest.” Everything slotted together. “Thin places,” Bryce said with sudden certainty. “Precisely,” Apollion answered for Aidas with an approving nod. “The Northern Rift, the Southern Rift—both lie atop a tremendous knot of ley lines. And while those under Avallen are not as strong, the island is unique as a thin place thanks to the presence of black salt—which ties it to Hel.” “And the mists?” Hunt asked. “What’s the deal with them?” “The mists are a result of the ley lines’ power,” Aidas said. “They’re an indication of a thin place. Hoping to find a ley line strong enough to help her transfer and hide Theia’s power, Helena sent a fleet of Fae with earth magic to scour every misty place they could find on Midgard. When they told her of a place wreathed in mists so thick they could not pierce them, Helena went to investigate. The mists parted for her—as if they had been waiting. She found the small network of caves on Avallen … and the black salt beneath the surface.”

All of the sister peaks thrum with power and are at odds with the land around them. Barren. They might all be thin places, interconnected through ley lines...and hiding a cache of magic in the root (heart) of their souls.

Bryce’s ancestors, separated by the Void, planted clues for those with the gifts and vision to see it.

What had looked like etched seas or rivers of stars now filled in with starlight, became … alive. Moving, cascading, coursing. A secret illustration, only for those with the gifts and vision to see it. (hofas)

A secret carved in stone. What secrets remain under other sacred mountains, such as Ramiel? Is it any coincidence that Enalius, who defended Ramiel, was the owner of Truth-Teller? Or that the Cauldron is depicted there? Who would be equipped with the gifts and vision to uncover those secrets and finally set the soul of the land free, like Bryce? 

“Light blasted up through the blades into her hands, her arms, her heart. Bryce could hear it through her feet, through the stone. The song of the land beneath her. Quiet and old and forgotten, but there. She heard how Avallen had yielded its joy, its bright green lands and skies and flowers, so it might hold the power as it was bid, waiting all this time for someone to unleash it. To free it. […] Helena had bound the soul of this land in magical chains. No more. No more would Bryce allow the Fae to lay claim over anything. “You’re free,” Bryce whispered to Avallen, to the land and the pure, inherent magic beneath it. “Be free.” And it was. (hofas)

Helena bound the soul of Avallen in magical chains. Doesn't that sound like what the Asteri did with the Cauldron and the land? There are so many hints that Elain is set up to address this plot, but the one I find the most compelling is given by the Under-King when he confirms who Urd (Wyrd) is:

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin…they were like tattoos.” […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

Now, doesn't that sound familiar?

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

The statues are essentially the same and Wyrd has already been described in terms that evoke the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (Forces That Be). And Nesta just happened to feel the need (fateful tug?) to place Elain’s rose—a symbol of life and joy and beauty—right next to Urd, and drew our attention to it again in the final scene of her story. What do you want to bet that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, gave her favorite gardener the gifts and vision she needs to make her dream of building more gardens, of breathing life and beauty into the land, a reality?

Sarah has confirmed that the main female characters in her books are helped by others, usually a love interest and friends. So who might be foreshadowed to help Elain?

I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.”  “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. (acowar)  - “I’ll help you,” Nesta offered.  But Elain shook her head. “Nuala and Cerridwen will help me.”  Then she was gone–shoulders a little squarer.  - It was three by the time the others went to bed. [...] Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. (acofas)

It’s no coincidence that the characters closest to Elain possess unique powers that complement her own and relate specifically to the elements of Stone Mother. Azriel learned to speak the language of shadow and wind and stone, while the half-wraith twins are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone as @psychee92 discusses here. Their magic likely thrives in thin parts of the world. It also isn't a coincidence that Nesta noticed and wondered this:  

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (acosf) 

Their beautiful, wraith-like team has the gifts necessary to traverse the slumbering heart of the earth as easily as foreign courts, which is a hard combination to find and is uniquely suited for Elain’s mission to release the Cauldron and land from the magical chains of the Asteri. Especially since we learn that Bryce uses both blades of the Starborn to free Avallen from its magical chains:

On an exhale, she plunged the weapons into the slits in the eight-pointed star. The small one for the knife. The larger one for the sword.

And like a key turning in a lock, they released what lay beneath. (hofas)

They even help Bryce rid the land of the Asteri and their core of power, creating a larger void to devour the one the Asteri set in place. Back in acowar, as many have noticed, Sarah already planted this moment between Azriel and Elain:

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection…that knife. (acowar)

She and Azriel seem to represent the balance of light and dark in the Starsword and Truth-Teller, as @merymoonbeam theorized. The Starborn blade—the one belonging to Enalius—is a bridge of connection between them. Bryce leaves the Starsword (Gwydion) and Truth-Teller with Nesta, encouraging her to learn about her connection to the Starborn (eight-pointed star). That might mean the Archeron Starborn connection may happen after all. I could see Elain wielding those blades when needed, activating their magic as she seemed to do with Truth-Teller, to release the land from its magical chains. It would also be interesting if Elain and Azriel functioned like the Made blades themselves, releasing the Asteri’s chains with their own blend of raw magic, and watching joyously as life blooms in earnest again.

Once they remove the magical chains of the Asteri—on the land and their sacred Cauldron—perhaps we’ll also discover what exists between Elain and Azriel at last: 

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports–likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City–the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it. 

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” 

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.” 

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?” 

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies…” (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, @elriell and others have written extensively about mating bonds, so I won’t discuss that in depth here. Essentially, Feysand and Nessian appear to have bonds that are true in spirit, and they are described as living threads of pure golden light between their souls. 

Thread after thread of pure golden light flowed into him, and he met it with his own. Where those threads wove together, life glowed like starfire, and she had never seen anything more beautiful, felt anything more beautiful. (acosf) 

This living light reminds me of the dawn, which is associated with healing and new beginnings. When Feysand and Nessian bind their souls together in these scenes, the dawn is invoked each time: 

Feysand

…I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world. (acomaf)

Nessian

Cassian roared as he came, and the sound was the summons of a hunt, a symphony, a single clear horn playing as dawn broke over the world. (acosf)

And when Azriel first sees Elain in his bonus chapter, her hair is unbound and she appears like the dawn, gilded in living light on the longest night of the year. 

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. (Azriel’s bonus chapter)

Is it possible that, with Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land, her own threads of life are similarly chained, or warped? Perhaps when Elain clears away the Asteri’s power, we will finally see the truth blooming between them: threads of golden light twining together in an endless, earthy melody.

#hofas spoilers #hofas #acotar #crossover theories #elain archeron #azriel #nuala and cerridwen #urd goddess #stone mother #mother cauldron fate #forbidden secrets follow up #healing the land #she has the gifts and vision #elriel #elain x azriel #this was written like a fever dream #i may need to reblog more later

[southelroydrive]

i'll make your body a habit.

pairing: robin buckley x f!reader summary: you're the guitarist for corroded coffin, known for your flirtatious and confident attitude but little do your fans know how you really are when you're alone with your girlfriend. word count: 3.4k title: own my mind by måneskin warnings: smut (18+ mdni), fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), degradation, multiple orgasms, weed usage a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app for like 3 months and i finally finished it. happy pride everyone <3

it was corroded coffin’s first gig outside of hawkins, a night you and your bandmates had been tirelessly preparing for over the last few weeks. four hours away from the small town of hawkins, indiana and filled with the promise of your first big break into the music industry.

yet, no one was more excited than your girlfriend robin. your sweet robin who was so proud to see her girl on that stage, living your dreams as a reality. your sweet robin who would travel to the ends of the earth just to see you perform.

she’s completely enamored by you as she stands in the crowd, steve right by her side. watching the way your hair sticks to your forehead, beads of sweat rolling down your temple as your fingers dance across the strings of your guitar. the way your hips sway, wide grin stamped on your lips as you let the music lead your movements. heavenly, that’s how she’d describe you.

a tight leather corset covered your torso, tits glistening with perspiration and practically spilling out the top. she couldn’t take her eyes off you even if she wanted to. or your smooth legs completely on display from the miniskirt adorning your waist. deep red in colour, which matches the tint of your lips, dripping in chains and safety pins that robin had watched you meticulously place the night before. watching the way the chains bounced with every snap of your hips to the rhythm of the song, she now knew why as the movement seemed almost hypnotic.

from the corner of his eye, steve can’t help but chuckle at the look of pure infatuation glossing over his best friend’s eyes. he nudges her with his elbow, making her reluctantly tear her gaze away from you to look at him with a frown.

“you’re so whipped, man.” he smirks, the freckled girl only rolling her eyes in response, a muttered “shut up.” falling upon deaf ears before turning back to the stage.

every time you lift your head to catch her eyes, your plump lips curl into an amused smile. your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you send her a playful wink before looking away. robin can’t help but let the corners of her mouth twist up into a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes linger down the length of your body. god, was she lucky.

by the end of your set, your chest is heaving with every deep breath that exhales from your mouth. a bright, toothy grin that lit up the room more than the blinding stage lights ever could spread across your lips as you look out at the crowd. with a bow and the sharing of a few final words, it’s finally over. the grin on your lips never leaving as you follow your bandmates off the stage.

“birdie!”

robin’s eyes snap towards your direction upon hearing your voice. she had just found her way backstage, where you stood beside your fellow bandmates a few metres away. your cheeks flushed bright red, panting for breath and veins bursting with adrenaline. beside you, she sees eddie’s lips moving in what she can only assume is a teasing remark by your reaction. you roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder as you rush past him over to your girlfriend, who envelops you in her arms once the gap between you finally closes.

“oh my god, babe!” her hands cradle the sides of your face, beaming down at you as she presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

“you.” she kisses you again. “were.” and again. “so.” and again. “fucking amazing!”

this time, her lips kiss yours deeply, lingering for just a moment before pulling back. your scarlet lipstick is now smudged, making her own lips pretty pink and glossy. you chuckle at the sight, leaning in to press a final kiss to her lips.

her hands slip to your waist, holding you close to her chest. yours wrap around her neck, fiddling with the ends of her hair. “so… you liked it?”

“are you kidding me?” she laughs, tugging you closer until your body is flush against hers. “you know i love watching you perform, you’re so talented baby.” her hands gently lower to your hips, her thumbs rubbing circles on the bone.

“oh yeah?” you raise an eyebrow, a small smile on your lips as you peer up at her through your eyelashes. you tilt your head up, lips inches away from her own. “well, i’m pretty talented at other things too, maybe we coul-“

“hey, ladies!” you groan, pulling your face away from robin’s as eddie slings his arm over your shoulder. a shit-eating grin takes its place on his face, clearly pleased with the flush of embarrassment dusting both yours and your girlfriend’s cheeks. “are you two coming or what?”

you shove his face away from your side, rolling your eyes at his antics. “you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you give him an unimpressed glare, yet the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips gives you away. this only makes his grin widen, winking at you before turning on his heel. “love you too, sweetheart!” he calls over his shoulder, curly mop of hair disappearing into the bar.

robin’s hand returns to its place on your hip. her other hand gently cupping your cheek and tilting your face up towards her. “hey.”

“m’gonna kill him, i swear,” you mumble, gaze softening under her gentle caress. you lean your cheek into her palm, sighing exasperatedly.

“some other time, yeah? gotta celebrate your big show.” robin pats your cheek affectionately before her hand falls to her side, the other slipping to the small of your back to gently guide you in the direction of the green room.

“fine, fine.” you roll your eyes a final time, a playful smile on your lips as you lean your head against her shoulder.

you spend the next few hours surrounded by your friends, rejoicing in the simmering adrenaline in your veins and the pungent smell of weed. the worn loveseat in the corner of the green room is occupied by you and your girlfriend, sat side by side. your legs drape across her lap, propping your elbow up on the back of the couch. her palm settles on your plush thigh, fingers fidgeting with the chains dangling from your skirt.

you bring the joint in between your fingers to your lips and inhale the smoke into your lungs, before exhaling. your body relaxes back into the chair, letting the drug take its effect on your body. she takes the joint from you, taking a hit herself.

you admire the way her lips wrap around it, held between her slim fingers. your mind can’t help but stray, already fuzzy from the high clouding your mind. you shift a little in your seat, an uncomfortable ache growing between your legs. her eyes meet yours, catching your movements as smoke spills from her lips. she glances around before leaning her head down so only you could hear her.

“something wrong, doll?” her voice drops down to a low, husky hum making the pool of arousal between your legs harder to ignore. her fingers trail up further to fiddle with the hem of your skirt before slipping underneath, feeling the plush skin of your inner thighs.

you shake your head, breath hitching as her fingertips inch closer and closer to where you were begging for her. she kisses her teeth, pinching the inside of your thigh before pulling her hand away. a small whine escapes your throat before you're biting down on your tongue, eyes darting around to see if any of your friends noticed. they didn’t, too immersed in their conversations to pay the two of you any mind.

you hear robin chuckle from beside you, turning to her with a glare. your bottom lip juts out into a pout, only causing your girlfriend’s lips to curl into an amused smirk. “don’t be pouty, baby. you’ll get what you want later.”

your eyes widen, sitting up straighter as you lean in closer to her. “whatever i want?” the curious tilt of your head as your chin rests on her shoulder and the glimmer of excitement sparkling in your eyes almost persuades her to take you to your car that minute. god, she didn’t even think you’d make it to the car and make use of the shitty public restrooms of the gross, dingy bar you were in. but no, that’s not what robin wanted. you deserved the best that night.

“mhm hm. like i said, we gotta celebrate your big show.” she smiles with a shrug of her shoulders, leaning back against the couch as she takes another long drag from the blunt. you can’t help but squirm in your seat, eyes fixated on her for the rest of the night.

robin loved a woman who knew what she wanted, someone who would stop at nothing to achieve their dreams. she loved seeing you on stage, exuding dominance that certainly earned you a dedicated fan base. she loved your flirty and confident nature that could make anyone swoon, her included. and fuck, did she think you looked pretty when you were in your element, fingers wrapped around the neck of your guitar.

but looking at you now, robin thought you never looked prettier than in moments like these.

legs spread wide open in the backseat of your car, skirt bunched up around your waist and lace panties discarded as two long fingers curl inside your plush walls. the leather corset long forgotten, your tits lightly bouncing with every buck of your hips.

your hands grip her wrist, nails digging into her skin as her fingers pump in and out of you at a relentless pace. eyes half-lidded, swollen lips parted. your pussy drools onto the leather seat below you, your inner thighs glistening with your arousal but you’re too far gone to care. as pathetic moans spill from your throat, your hips mindlessly roll against her hand, silently begging for more.

“such a greedy girl, aren’t you? look at you, two fingers stuffed in your needy cunt and you still want more.” she chuckles, eyes darkened with lust as she stares down at you. if she thought you looked heavenly earlier, the image before her now would put that to shame. chest rising and falling with every pant that leaves your puffy, glossy lips, eyes struggling to stay open as she pushes your body closer to pleasure.

her condescending tone goes straight to your head, making your mind even more fuzzy and a whine fall from your lips. the only thing worth thinking about is her and the feeling of her fingers pushing inside of you. your free hand flails to find something to grab onto, landing on her shoulder with a firm grip as she reaches that spongy spot deep inside of you. the car fills with the filthy sounds of her fingers pumping inside of you, along with the broken cries of her name.

“yeah? that feel good? come on, pretty girl. tell me what you want.” her lips graze the shell of your ear, voice a sensual whisper but her words are truly cruel. with the way her fingers are fucking into you, it’s impossible to think let alone speak. your eyes snap up to look at her, brows laced together in a pleading expression as incoherent whimpers leave your lips.

she chuckles, the sound taunting in your ear. “don’t be shy now, i just wanna make you feel good, baby. be a good girl and tell me.” she coos, pressing her lips against your jaw. her fingers continue their merciless pace, her thumb beginning to rub torturous circles on your poor, neglected clit.

“r-robbie please!” you let out a choked gasp as her thumb presses against your clit, a loud moan falling from your lips. your breathing becomes heavier, clenching around her fingers as she pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “god, fuck! baby, m’gonna-“

“yeah? you gonna cum for me?” robin’s almost as breathless as you, her finger hooking under your chin to force your gaze to lock onto hers. as much as your girlfriend loved to tease you and wanted to make you beg for it, tonight was about rewarding you. she looks down at you, eyes hooded with a smirk tugging at her lips when you nod desperately. “go ahead, doll. cum all over my fingers.”

a choked moan leaves your lips, eyes almost rolling back into your head as you gush around her fingers. your thighs tremble uncontrollably, hips involuntarily rolling against her hand as you ride your high. robin feels her own cunt throb as she watches you reach your climax. your face scrunched up in pleasure, walls clamped down around her fingers as they slow, prolonging your pleasure.

“holy shit.” you pant heavily, gasping for breath. your grip on her shoulder loosens, slumping back against the leather seats. a dazed smile rests on your lips, eyelashes fluttering as you come down from your intense orgasm.

“look at you, my gorgeous girl.” she sighs dreamily, nose grazing your cheek as she eases her fingers out of you. she could almost moan from the sight of your juices dripping down her hand, lifting her head to look directly at you as she slips them into her mouth, making a show of licking them clean.

you watch her with bated breath, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you watch her. pink lips wrapping around slick fingers, her eyes boring into yours as she does so. your trembling thighs press together, a new wave of arousal washing over your body despite how sensitive you were.

her eyes flutter shut, a satisfied groan leaving her lips as her tongue swirls around her fingers. she pulls them out of her mouth with an audible pop, a small smirk tugging at her lips as she sees the way your body reacts. her head tilts down, hot breath tickling your cheek. “you taste so fucking good, baby. you drive me insane.” she mumbles, eyes blown wide with lust as she cradles your jaw.

another pathetic whimper barely escapes from your lips before she’s silencing you with her own. the kiss is sloppy, tongues swirling together hungrily.

when she finally pulls away, her forehead presses against yours as she gazes down at you, smirking at the sight of your flushed cheeks and the uneven rise and fall of your breath, all just for her to see. the hand on the side of your neck shifts to wrap around your throat, a sharp gasp leaving you at the action.

she chuckles, applying a small amount of pressure around your neck, just enough to have a small mewl escape your throat. “yeah? is this what you wanted, doll?” her voice is a seductive rasp, breath fanning across your face. “poor baby just wanted me to treat her like a dirty whore, hm?”

the frantic nod of your head is a clear answer for her. her lips twitch in amusement. “that’s what i thought.”

her grip tightens, pushing your head up with a gentle squeeze. her gaze locks onto yours, half-lidded eyes staring deeply into your own. “you look so pathetic like this. what would they say, baby? what would all those people say if they knew how much of a slut you were for me, hm?”

you whine, an arm lifting up to hide your face in your elbow as her words fill you with embarrassment.

she shushes you, gently guiding your arm back down to your side. “i know, sweet girl… only i can see you like this.” she whispers, her hand moving away to instead grip your thighs firmly.

her lips slowly make their way down your body, shuffling down the backseat of your car. they skim down the valley of your tits, down your stomach. travelling further and further down until they ghost over the inside of your thighs.

your eyes widen as she hooks your legs over her shoulders. she smirks when she comes face to face with your pussy, eyes trained on yours as she leans down.

her tongue slowly slides through your folds, coating it with your slick. she groans, eyelashes momentarily fluttering as she laps up your juices. you let out a high-pitched moan, hand flying to her hair to stable yourself. the vibrations of her grunts and hums make your grip tighten, grabbing fistfuls of her hair.

she’s merciless. tongue licking and sucking like a woman starved. her hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer as her tongue flattens against your folds, slowly dragging up and up until she reaches your clit. her eyes stare up into yours, watching your face twist in pleasure, jaw becoming slack as she wraps her lips around your puffy clit. it elicits a sharp whine from your throat. your hands run through her hair, unable to decide between tugging her away from your sensitive cunt or pushing her head closer.

“fuck, fuck, fuck! ohmygod, r-robs!” the words spilling from your lips are nothing but incoherent whimpers, babbling uncontrollably as she sucks harshly on your clit. hips mindlessly rutting against her face, hands feverishly tugging strands of her hair. you feel her lips curl into a smirk against you, blue eyes piercing through your half-lidded ones.

your thoughts are practically mush, consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that drives you closer and closer to another orgasm. robin can tell, by the way your trembling thighs clench around her head, pushing her even further between your legs, and the way your moans get more breathless and whiny.

she reluctantly pulls her mouth away. the hot breath hitting your pussy, making you squirm. “come on, pretty girl. you gonna give me another one, hm?” she peers up at you, watching your vigorous nod and the desperate buck of your hips. a small chuckle leaves her before she’s burying her head between your thighs once more, eating you out as if her life depended on it.

it’s not long until your back arches off the leather seat, a final broken cry of her name spilling from your lips as you cum on her tongue. she lets out a soft groan, greedily lapping up everything you give her.

“b-baby s’too much!” you whine as her tongue continues to glide through your folds. your thighs tremble with sensitivity around her head, inevitably pulling her mouth away with a harsh tug to her hair.

her mouth detaches from you with a soft laugh. your feet landing on the floor with a soft thud as she sits up on her knees, your legs slipping from her shoulders. “i know, i know. i’m sorry, sweet girl.” she chuckles, patting your thigh comfortingly.

she leans down, resting her forehead against yours as her hands trail up your sides. her touch admiring every dip and curve of your body. there’s a moment of silence between you both, only your heavy breaths filling the void. she tilts her head, pressing her lips against your forehead before leaning back. her back hits the car door, hands finding purchase on your hips as she pulls you into her lap.

her arms wrap around your waist, holding you close to her chest as your face nuzzles into the crook of her neck. she sighs contentedly, nails grazing over the bare skin of your back as your breath tickles her collarbones.

“i’m so proud of you, baby,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against your temple. you hum in response, shuddering as her nails rake over your spine.

“thank you…” you mumble, breath fanning across her neck as you place a tender kiss to her collarbones. her lips curl into a smile, feeling your own smile against her skin.

she puts both her hands on either side of your head, gently lifting it up to look at her. she gazes down at you with pure adoration in her eyes, fingertips grazing your cheekbones as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“my gorgeous, talented girl.” she smiles fondly, touch lingering on your face before she’s pulling you into a sweet kiss.

you could get used to this kind of post-show celebration.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley smut

[milla-frenchy]

Fav Joel series

All of them are 18+ and nsfw

Please check for each fic all the warnings indicated by the author

Summaries are those written by the authors

Raider Joel @toxicanonymity

You think Joel is saving you from the bad guys, but he's claiming you for himself. You're his now, and he won't let you or his men forget it. How long until Stockholm syndrome sets in? Will his persona start to crack?

Slasher Joel @toxicanonymity

He's a tow truck driver and you're stranded. You're already DTF but end up fucking for your life when you offend him.

Night walks @toxicanonymity

Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but not really. You can't stop fucking him after that.

Carnal @pascalsbby

You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth.

Dom!Joel @atticrissfinch

The wrong number that texts you ends up being a man much hotter than you’d ever expect…

⭐ Meet me in the back @atticrissfinch

When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative

I know it when I see it @bageldaddy

It's the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name texas.

I can be your pretty girl @walkintotheriveranddisappear

After your bodily insecurities stop you from exploring your sexuality, your dad's best friend offers to help you gain some confidence and help prepare you for experiences with men. as things progress with joel, you realize he's taking advantage of you, but that doesn't stop you from having a good time, too.

Online friends @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Hot single dilfs in your area want to chat, and you're more than willing to comply (anonymous sex chatting with joel)

Something wretched about this @covetyou

Your father has been medicating his long term illness for as long as you can remember, and he'd always been grateful to find medication suppliers even after the world went to shit. When he can't pay up, what lengths will you go to to protect your entire world?

Ravish @psychedelic-ink

Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

Ghost of you @thetriumphantpanda

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Trial & error @thetriumphantpanda

Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you’ve ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That’s what brothers are for, right?

Come away with me @thetriumphantpanda

Four years have passed and you’ve managed to raise a beautiful baby boy into a sweet little boy. Four years of one night with Joel Miller and countless others with his brother. You’ve been trying for months now for your second baby and it’s proving much more difficult than first time around, so Joel has a plan. One week, alone, on the lake, with one goal - another baby.

A lover's pinch @hier--soir

A one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

You summer dream @swiftispunk

Fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.

Lost in the dark @iamasaddie

One time you decide to cheat on your boyfriend is, of course, the time his dad catches you. Once normal relationship turns into something new, and you are forced to face the fucked up reality of your life

Hard to be soft, tough to be tender @iamasaddie

Desperation was never a good advisor, and yours led to find yourself as a very special person among Joel Miller's birds. You'll have to see for yourself if you have what it takes to live up to the status, and in the meantime Joel will "train" you and take care of you. // Joel Miller is a pimp and you are at your all time low, that's it.

Feelings on fire @joelscruff

You're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

With pleasured hands @magpiepills

You’re Tommy Miller’s girlfriend, you’re on vacation with him and Joel, Tommy likes it when you’ve got an audience, Joel prefers being an active participant

Bullet for you darlin' @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

Joel takes something a little more personal from you after you run out of things to trade

Sunshine @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

A look at the innocent relationship between Sunshine and Joel till one night something changes the course of their relationship forever. 'Loss and heartbreak often turn the best of us into our worst selves.'

⭐ latest series added (11/18/2023)

HUGE thank you to all the authors 🙏🙏🙏

Fics recs

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fic