#or I will still be playing A Wonderful Life and no one will have seen or heard from me since the release date

[silenceandpatiencepining]

I am dusting off my little blog here because TTPD has my mind absolutely reeling. I am really wondering if anyone else listened to this and had this feeling that the album confirmed everything that they were thinking was going on with her. I know we talk so much about reading her songs beneath the surface of muses or certain details used to craft a story, but to me, TTPD reads so strongly of her reckoning with her life in the industry. like, it's so much more than the relationships. it's the comp het, it's the religious trauma, it's the being exploited as a child star, it's deep wound of abandonment and neglect when she as a person got split off from her brand and both could not thrive, it's giving everything to this brand and career and fandom and that still never being enough. it's her codependency with the very people that exploit her. it's the fact that she is bigger than she ever imagined and none of it feels how she wanted. it's the simultaneous love and resentment she has towards her family, and relationships, and career, and yes, even her fans.

the rawness of this album, the unrefined feel, the summation poem talking about this as mania, the continuation of the cage imagery and themes of escaping to her mind/fantasy, the coping with criticism, numbing it all with alcohol, the willingness to burn it all down and disgrace her name because none of this is what she wants or at least not how she wants.

I have seen so many criticisms of the album and honestly, I understand where they are coming from, but I also think the things they criticize make the exact point of what this body of work is - something that exists for it's own sake to turn things back on the people that made her into what she is now. art created not to be acclaimed but because it demands to be expressed. it is an exorcism, an expulsion. it is something that erupted from her. and it's so meta because this fandom and the industry are voyeurs in an echo chamber so desperate to see what they want that they miss that this is about them. that is what makes it brilliant to me - it is self-indulgent and metaphorical, and complex, and so direct, but yet still masked just enough that people miss it. her entire life has become performance art. it is a play within a play. and I fear the audience has not caught on.

it feels like she is reclaiming it all. I feel like this could either be a hint at a new beginning or a signal that she has broken and this is the end. this felt like the tell-all memoir written in code that everyone else will finally understand when she really leaves this spotlight. it's the lucky one come to life. she is daydreaming about fucking it all and leaving this life behind so she can finally have some goddamn peace.

I love this album for it as art. it is so expressive. it is so heartbreaking. it's messy and nuanced, and I think it is going way the fuck over most people's heads, especially when you really dig into poetry being the theme and the specific works she references. it's only been a week and I am just starting to really dig in but talk about a fucking iceberg.

#ttpd #tsttpd #tortured poets department

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hiii Miss Ravennn! 😊 I’m sure you’ve seen the new club Leona by now and if not now then at some point you will. 🎤 Care to share with the class about what your thoughts on it are?

-Insert groaning sfx here-

IF I MUST... 💀

***Spoilers for Epel, Ruggie, and Leona's Club Wear cards below the cut!!***

*aggressively leans into the mic* ALRIGHT, WHICH ONE OF YOU TWST DEVS DECIDED TO PUT THE GUY WITH THE BIGGEST CHEST NEXT TO TWO OF THE FLATTEST GUYS IN THE WHOLE CAST 🤡 That poor belt looks like it's going to burst, it truly is the strongest soldier of Magift/Spelldrive Club... I'm going to have to avoid scrolling on socials for like the next week or else I just know I'm going to be clocked by fan art after fan art of Leona in uniform 🪦

BUT HEY, IT'S OKAY, IT'S FINE, IT'S FIIIIINE. Let's compare the club outfits of Leona against his teammates to distract me from thinking about rolling for L*ona!

Many fans already predicted Leona's new hairstyle would be something that kept his hair out of his face, similar to what we see for Epel and Ruggie. This makes sense, as you would not want anything obscuring your line of sight if you're going to be playing a sport. I like that they differentiated Leona's ponytail from the one he wears in his PE Uniform card! In his new Clubwear, Leona's bangs are slicked back to not get in his way, and the ponytail is much higher. The PE Uniform ponytail still has his usual bangs and the ponytail is very low.

Around Leona, Epel, and Ruggie's necks appears to be some kind of... cord???? (I'm not familiar with sporting gear, so I don't know what the terminology for this piece is. Sorry!!) There is a different number of golden notches, and I wonder if this corresponds with their year level since Epel (the first year) has one, Ruggie (the second year) has two, and Leona (the third year and club captain) has three.

RE SO EXTRA?????? 'An interesting detail is that Ruggie and Epel have goggles with different colored coatings on their lenses to reflect their dorms (golden for Savanaclaw, purple for Pomefiore). Leona, however, does not have traditional goggles, nor are they mounted on his head. He seems to have a pair of sunglasses dangling from the little side pocket that holds his magical pen. Ruggie and Epel's footwear also indicates their dorm allegiance via colors. Leona's shoes are that signature Savanaclaw yellow as well, but... ahbdbyovqyfefe THEY'RE'An interesting detail is that Ruggie and Epel have goggles with different colored coatings on their lenses to reflect their dorms (golden for Savanaclaw, purple for Pomefiore). Leona, however, does not have traditional goggles, nor are they mounted on his head. He seems to have a pair of trendy-looking sunglasses dangling from the little side pocket that holds his magical pen. Ruggie and Epel's footwear also indicates their dorm allegiance via colors. Leona's shoes are that signature Savanaclaw yellow as well, but... ahbdbyovqyfefe THEY'RE SO EXTRA???? At first I thought it was a bunch of shiny golden particles but upon closer inspection, it looks to be more like a purposefully textured fade. Truly, hats off to the designers and artists for somehow making a variant of the club uniform that conveys Leona’s arrogance and includes luxurious fashion (though let’s be honest, Ruggie probably maxed Leona’s credit card buying these accessories for him www).

…

<_<

>_>

A n y w a y

I think my favorite part of this new card is Leona’s face. You can unfortunately get a good look at how handsome he is here 💀 The cocky smirk, the sharp and bright eyes, his sharp jawline, how his locks fall around his face and call attention to… YOU KNOW, EVERYTHING???? 😭 His regal aura really is there front and center…

But no, no!! I shan’t roll for him 🙃 I can appreciate from afar, I don’t need to have ojitan in my card roster, nope.

Since the Epel Clubwear first dropped and I saw the buckles… I’ve been on a spiritual retreat in the mountains and lived a humble life as a nun, meditating in the peace and tranquility of nature to attain enlightenment. I have no worldly desires such as Fake Cat 🙏 This is me coping

#twisted wonderland #twst #Leona Kingscholar #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #jp spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question #NOT L*ONA ROT

[glossamerfaerie]

One aspect of Gwynriel that really excites me is religion. The other protagonists don’t seem to take religion or rituals very seriously? Everyone respects the Mother and acknowledges her power (and the Cauldron), but we haven’t explored faith among the fae. Feyre has a terrible experience with Ianthe (a sadly accurate depiction of corruption within organized religion). But we know that not all priestesses are like power-hungry Ianthe. Nesta is understandably indifferent even though she later has an experience with the Mother during Nyx’s birth. Rhys and Cassian seem respectful but we’ve never seen them pray or attend services. It’s giving “only attending church during Christmas” level of religious commitment.

Azriel, on the other hand… we haven’t had much canon insight in his head, but I firmly believe that Azriel is more religious than his brothers. Like he’s not the type to attend temple services, but he probably thinks about faith and the Mother regularly. Clearly he has contemplated mating bonds and who creates them — maybe he’s prayed for a mating bond? Maybe his mother raised him to be more religious. In HOFAS, after Nesta takes the mask off in a close call, Az’s very first instinct is to thank the Mother. Possibly that is meaningless (like how an atheist can say “thank god”) but idk. Az seems to have more faith than his brothers.

“The Mask fell from Nesta’s face, clattering on the stone.

Nesta swayed, but Azriel was there, catching her, bringing her to his chest, scarred hands stroking her hair. “Thank the Mother,” he breathed. “Thank the Mother.”

A few chapters later, Az describes the Cauldron and what happens after death.

“Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?”

“The Cauldron,” Azriel amended. Bryce shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t have stories of it in your world? The Fae didn’t bring that tradition with them?”

Bryce surveyed the giant cauldron. “No. We have five gods, but no cauldron. What does it do?”

“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.”

Later in the conversation, Az explains what happens to souls after death.

“When you die, where do your souls go?” Did they even believe in the concept of a soul? Maybe she should have led with that.

But Azriel said softly, “They return to the Mother, where they rest in joy within her heart until she finds another purpose for us. Another life or world to live in.”

The way Az talks about the Mother, with reverence and confidence, makes me certain that he’s more religious than his brothers.

Then, of course, we have Gwyn — a literal priestess who was raised in a temple. She still attends daily services and sings for the choir. I’ve wondered if what happened in Sangravah shook Gwyn’s faith. Maybe she thinks the Mother exists but isn’t a benevolent deity. Maybe she’s bitter that the Mother didn’t save her servants from Hybern attacks. She definitely feels shame and unworthiness — Gwyn no longer feels like she has a right to wear the Invoking Stone. Working through those feelings will be a major aspect of Gwyn’s arc.

“You asked me once why I don’t wear the hood or the Invoking Stone. That stone is a sign of holiness. How can someone like me wear it?”

Within the temple, Gwyn also faces prejudice and discrimination from her fellow sisters. Ianthe isn’t the only asshole within the organization (cough Merrill cough). I’m sure that some people in Sangravah were cruel to Gwyn’s family because of their nymph heritage. I don’t know what SJM has planned, but I feel that religion will play a major role in the Gwynriel book. I wouldn’t be surprised that, like Nesta, Gwyn has a firsthand experience with the Mother. She will definitely use the blue invoking stone for healing (a nice parallel to Az’s blue siphons).

“It’s an Invoking Stone.” Gwyn unfurled her fingers, revealing the gem within her hand. “Similar to the Siphons of the Illyrians, except that the power of the Mother flows through it. We cannot use it for harm, only healing and protection. It was shielding us.”

I’m also curious to see Gwyn and Az discuss their religious beliefs together. Maybe Az gets permission to join the dawn and dusk services. The man barely sleeps, he might as well watch Gwyn during her religious commitments. The shadows are NOT going to pass a chance to hear their girl sing (or watch her glow). Maybe Nesta can talk Az into singing with the choir. 🥹

Nesta could only gape at the lovely melody, the voices from the front of the cavern leading it, lifting higher than the others. Gwyn sang, chin high, a faint glow seeming to radiate from her. The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth.

Idk, maybe I’m wrong about Az being religious. But it feels like such a wasted opportunity if we don’t learn more about the Mother! At the very least, I do see Az attending the dawn and dusk services if he’s not on a mission. 🎼🩵🎶

#gwynriel #my acotar thoughts #pro gwyn #gwyneth berdara #azriel #gwyn x azriel #nesta archeron #hofas spoilers #house of flame and shadow #acotar #a court of silver flames

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Somethin' Stupid - A.A.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Tav/Reader (Bard)

Warnings: BG3 Act 3 Spoilers! Fluff! Use of Frank Sinatra’s “Somethin’ Stupid” lyrics, Tav gives off Disney Princess Energy, Astarion is stuck in a rut but you help him out, Insecure!Astarion, Spawn!Astarion

Wordcount: 1,182

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on Astarion for a while, but lately he seems distant. You take it upon yourself to brighten his day, with the use of what you know and love. Music. And of course, a goofy smile.

A/N: Thank you @ditzdreamweaver for this prompt for Y/N serenading Astarion! I think it was an absolutely adorable idea, I definitely went a bit angstier with it but there's still a bunch of fluff/cuteness.

Ever since the party had defeated Cazador, Astarion seemed down. He chose to free the thousands of spawn that were kept in captivity into the Underdark. And yet, he struggled. He slightly regretted his decision not to ascend. He felt that he could have been a much more powerful asset to the team. In short, his insecurities were eating at him, and he couldn’t stand being around the rest of the group. Not for long, anyways. He could only uphold his confident aura for so long. Especially with you. You would never judge him, you had seen him covered in blood after stabbing Cazador, and you were the one who took a damp towel to wipe off the blood he should see or reach.

You and Astarion had grown fairly close, even with the heartache everyone in the party suffered. But lately, he felt distant. Typically, he would spend most nights chatting with the party, then you two would continue conversing into the late hours of the night. Astarion, was of course, a vampire elf, and you were a bard who was a natural night owl from the late nights playing in the taverns. Despite this, and the pull he felt to continue those late nights with you, something within him inhibited him from doing so.

“I’m heading to bed” Astarion muttered, before puttering off towards his tent. It was merely a few moments following your return to camp, and the sun had not yet set. Gale had begun to prepare a meal for the rest of the group, the glistening fire flickering below a large pot, which he intended to fill with a stew of sorts.

As Astarion’s tent completely secluded him from the rest of the group, you finally decided you had had enough. You would not let him suffer alone. You trotted over to your own tent happily, grabbing your lute from the corner. It had been a while since you played for an audience, but you needn’t worry about your abilities.

“I know I stand in line” You sang. “until you think you have the time”  Astarion listened intently to your melodic voice, which easily had the capacity to draw him in. He hadn’t heard it since the very beginning of your journey together, but the strength of your voice hadn’t faltered. In fact, it sounded even more powerful than before. “to spend an evening with me…” You continued singing, dancing around the camp, with your typical goofball smile along your lips. The others reciprocated your happiness. Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, and even Lae’zel danced along the perimeter of the camp with you, Scratch and the owlbear cub clearly enjoying the music as well. Gale swayed as he was cooking, his feet pitter-pattering to the sound of the beat coming from your lute.

“Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two” you sang, dancing towards Astarion’s tent. Your voice radiated outside of the tent, steadily ushering him towards you. He wondered if you were a siren in your past life. “And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like” with that, Astarion approached the edge of the tent, his fingers pulling the flap of his tent so he could view you just as you sang “I love you.” He watched as your pupils dilated as he came into your visibility, and he felt like you truly meant the words you were singing. The goofy smile plastered on your face was enhanced even more, and Astarion was able to smile for the first time in several weeks.

“I love you too, darling.” In all honesty, Astarion couldn’t remember the last time he spoke those words truthfully. You continued strumming as you ushered him to follow you over to sit on a log with you under the shade, a little further from camp. The rest of the group had disbanded to allow you your time together. As you began to slow the song down, some of Astarion’s insecurities began to plague him once more, but you tugged him past them. “Talk to me, Star” you prompted, pulling your lute off of your lap and opting to place it up against the tree next to you.

You turned towards Astarion, granting him your full attention. He looked at you with saddened eyes but couldn’t bring himself to look away. “I should have done it, Y/N.” He stated simply. A puzzled look came upon your face, and you reached for his hands to place in yours. He granted you them, then shuttered with pleasure as you softly ran your thumbs up and down the back of his hands. “What should you have done, Astarion?”

“I should have ascended.” Instead of acting flabbergasted, you remained calm, looking at him with gentle eyes. “Why do you say that my love?”

Gods, Astarion could barely take when you spoke those words to him. You were so gentle with him, which he was grateful for, but on the other hand it made him feel weak. He didn’t want to need to be taken care of.

“I want to be stronger for you. To protect you. To protect the party. To have the power to ensure that none of you ever get hurt again.” He spoke, and you felt your heart palpate against your chest. “Star…” You spoke, gentle eyes looking at him yet again.

“Do you realize how strong you are?” You questioned, with little response from him, merely a glance from his glossy eyes. “You have traveled far and wide for all of us here. You defeated your sadistic master, you helped us through the Gauntlet of Shar, through the Creche, through Grymforge, through Moonrise Tower! You learned how to stand up for yourself and what you wanted! We’ve saved people, and brought others to their demise, deservingly so!” You exclaimed, nearly standing up and lecturing him. “You’ve learned more about yourself in these past few months than you have in the rest of your lifetime, Astarion. Do you know how much you have to be proud of? I’m glad you didn’t ascend, Astarion. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. Ascending would have been the easy choice. The easy way out. A way for you to continue Cazador’s pattern of torture. But you decided to do better for yourself! You are one hundred percent the strongest man I’ve ever met, Astarion. And I’m not going to sit here, and let you tell yourself other-” with that, Astarion placed the gentlest kiss upon your soft lips.

Your eyes widened upon impact, surprised by the pale elf’s action. After a moment, you pulled away, simply stating “uhm- wow. That was really nice.” Next, you felt Astarion’s arms wrap around you, nuzzling into your neck. You allowed one of your hands to trace on his back, while the other played in his hair. “Thank you, darling.” He mumbled into your skin. “Of course” you responded, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to just be there with him for a while. It was what he needed, after all.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion fluff #astarion vampire #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fandom #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #tav x astarion #astarion angst

[thr-333]

I just realized. I don't think I've seen anything about April in OaaHF. Where is she? What does she do in the resistence? How aware is she of Leon's situation?

Set while Leon is recovering from his first facial scar:

“No, no way!”

Leon groaned as the yell woke him, sound getting choked out by the bandages wrapped tight around his neck. Constricting his airway making it so he could never get a full breath, was always light headed. Although that could be the bloodloss.

“We need his portals, its not a-”

“I don’t care if it’s a transport mission, I don’t care if he’s at the very back line, you are not getting him out of that bed,”

Leon scrunched up his face so he wouldn’t have to deal with the light of day. Or the light of med bay. He wanted to go back to sleep and it wasn’t even the yelling that was stopping him. Pain flared along his face and shoulder in tandem with his heartbeat. Bandages pulled meticulously tight making every throb worse.

“It’s not an active mission, I’ve mapped out the points all Kraang will be avoided-”

“Then you do it!”

That voice, Leon knew it even past the haze pain. Probably helped that there were no painkillers available to keep him floaty. He sighed his big sisters voice was always soothing, well when she wasn’t yelling at him. Although he supposed she technically was.

“Ape’s I’m needed here,” Leo reasoned, his voice was deep and raspy. Huh Leon wondered if his voice sounded closer to it now, “I can’t up and leave the resistance without aleader for a minor mission,”

“So you admit it’s a minor mission!” April accused, Leon tried to open his eyes. The best he could make out was a couple of blurry figures until the light forced him to shut them.

“Minor but needed, lives are at stake here April,”

“His life is at stake!” Leon opened his mouth, but his throat was raw and the skin of his cheek pulled weirdly threatening to make him throw up if he tried. He tried anyway, why should be matter? “If he moves that wound, the wound you gave him is going to tear right open, he won’t survive that a second time,”

“April it was an accident, my hand slipped,” 

His future self was right of course. After all he had been the one to sacrifice his scarf to keep as much blood inside Leon’s body as possible. He had literally held Leon’s life in his hands. You didn’t do that for a person you were actually trying to kill… no matter how much it looked lik you wanted to seconds before.

That was fine. It was an accident. Leon shouldn’t have baited him.

“Bullshit, also I don’t give a crap, he’s not ready for field work!”

“The doctor cleared him,”

“Which you know they shouldn’t have!” April screeched, ugh Leon wished she wouldn’t, “Come on Leo you're a medic, just look at him!”

There was silence. Leon held still pretending to be asleep. Which was easy as he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Only the jabs of pain and his sister keeping him present.

“It’s between him and them,”

“Him, everytime, my little brother should come first everytime,” Leon’s heart didn’t know if it should skip a beat or clench. It was the answer he wanted to hear- but one he was completely undeserving of.

“I can’t play favorites,”

“Plaaeesseee,” The pure amount of sarcasm poured into the tone would have shot three men dead, “Is that why Mikey’s locked up in the underground bunker within an underground bunker, deep fried and finished with magic?”

“April-”

“Or how about Donnie’s lab, which is enforced with thirty percent of our titanium stores?” Leo would have rolled his eyes if they wouldn't just keep rolling back into his head. Obviously it wasn’t a matter of favoritism, his brothers were simply more important than him, “And how me and Cassie keep getting shortlisted missions? Junior hasn’t left your side in months and you haven't left this safehold in a year? Yet guess who’s going on missions every other week?”

“It’s all a matter of circumstance,” Leo’s voice took on a cold and harsh tone, “I’m trying to keep everyone alive for the sak-”

“Everyone but Leon,” 

She called him Leon… when had he become Leon? When has he started solely thinking of himself as Leon? Why was his futureself exclusively Leo? The thoughts were to hard to capture, slipping through his hands like sand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to dwell on them anyway.

“Well sucks for you but I care about keeping him alive, even if you don’t,” 

That wasn’t fair, he cared about Leon he did, as much as he could. Leon didn’t make it easy, after… after everything he caused. He couldn’t blame his future self for being a bit weird. He cared where it counted. Leon would’ve been dead three times over now if he didn’t.

“This mission is needed-”

“I’ll go then,”

No, April

“April, No,”

“If it’s so important you need to drag him out of bed and risk reopening the slice you put in his neck then it’s important enough for I, commander O’Neil to take over,”

“You’re not who you are in the future, you’re not Commander O’Neil,”

“And I never will be if you keep coddling,” April spat, “Besides I don’t care about being a commander right now, I care about being a sister, so it’s either I take the mission or you cancel it,”

The silence stretched on. Leon grasped onto his threads of consciousness. Purposely twitching his shoulder to get the fiery pain to keep him awake. It was amazing how something could fill him with so much dread yet he still selfishly felt hope that they would go through with it. Because he was selfish, rather stay hidden away in bed in a back room of the stronghold while his big sister fronted all the danger.

“Fine,” Relief and dread, unfortunately not in equal measure, “You come back alive understand?”

“Oh darn, there go my plans,” April tossed back, a shade closer to her usual teasing tone but still tense.

Leo didn’t answer. Because he was Leo, even in Leon’s own mind. But the older turtle huffed. Leon listened to his footsteps fade as Aprils got closer. The dip in his bed bit him to open his eyes.

“Heya blue, you awake?” April’s hand gently brushed his forehead, Leon cringed as he opened his eyes, “How’re you doing?”

He couldn’t answer, not really. So he leaned into her palm. Flinching as the small movement pulled on his wound from neck to cheek. He hissed through the pain. Tight bandages around his throat feeling suffocating as he would have struggled to breath even without them.

“Sorry, sorry, just wanted to check in,” The details of Aprils face were hard to make out pain blurring them out, “I’m going away for a mission,”

“Do… t,” Leon tried to sound out, it didn’t come anywhere close, but hey look at that: His voice was raspy.

“Don’t worry about me, it’s my job to worry about you,” She pat his cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles under his eye, “Seriously, please, it’s ok to care about yourself, you should, once in a whil- actually all the time,”

Leon shook his head imperceptibly. She was wrong. He had done that, over and over again. Each time they lost so much. He couldn’t, not anymore. Why couldn’t she understand that? 

Leo understood that. He knew what it was like to sit with that guilt, that self hate. He knew how to work for others to ease that feeling even a little bit. As losses stacked everyday and crushed him under their weight.

“I bet your thinking something stupid right now,” April pinched his opposite cheek, the unscarred one that showed off his brilliant red stripe, “I wish you were better so I could beat my love into your skull, but we’ll have to save that for when I get back,”

Leon plucked up the strength to use his right arm. Greaspoing Aprils loosely. He needed to get his point across, even without words, he had to.

“I will be alright, you rest up,” April moved from his grasp to instead thread their fingers together, “I’m your big sister, I’m always going to look out for you, even if I have to do that by not being here,”

No, no that wasn’t what he meant. Leo jerked to grab her again. White hot flares shot through his shoulder. Fuck, wrong arm. Darkness clawed at the edge of his vision, plusing in time with the pain searing through him.

“You’re so………. Don’t let anyone convince you…..” April's voice faded in and out, “ We have always…….. None of this………… alright Leon?”

Leon, that was the last word he caught before his world faded to black. The last thing he heard his sister say. 

When he woke up.

She was gone.

#One and a Half Futures #oaahf #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #future leo #rise #tmnt

[aziraphales-library]

do you have any fic recs for aziracrow in the 1920s/30s? I watched Bright Young Things recently and now all I need in life is Aziraphale attending Gatsby-esque parties or anything similar along those lines. I love your blog btw! Very helpful <3

We have a #1920s tag, so check that out. Here are some 1930s/Gatsby/Bright Young Things fics...

wanna witness your eyes looking by izzyhandsgf (E)

"How could someone so unbearably holy commit such sins in the most beautiful way?" ----------------------------- Or, Aziraphale and Crowley meet in the 1930s, fem-presenting, and both are slightly overcome by their feelings for one another...

I’ll be Seeing You by gothwillgraham (G)

In the early 1930s, both Crowley and Aziraphale are active in London’s high society, without the other realizing it. When their respective orders cause them to cross paths for the first time since 1867, dealing with the tasks at hand is one thing. But dealing with the emotions built up in the last 70 years is quite another.

Lavender Coffin by The_Infamous_Jack (T)

“If Aziraphale had been in any way inclined, he would have been worried about the damnation of his soul if Heaven ever saw what he was up to. He never worried, though, because they couldn't see a damn thing. Aziraphale was not doing anything that involved Heaven at the moment, he was simply spending time with the humans, and as result, his lifestyle was completely invisible to them. They never bothered him, and he was free to act as sordid as the rest of the era if he so chose to.” ~~~ Aziraphale loves the 1920s, and he only wishes that he could share it with Crowley. Unfortunately, the more time that Aziraphale spends with the humans, and the more drunken letters he writes to his absent “husband”, the more he discovers the darker undertones to the era he thought he fitted right into. Eventually, he begins to spiral into questioning his own loyalties, and he desperately needs somebody to save him. It’s rather ironic that the only person who can is a demon, and one which Aziraphale hasn’t seen for over 70 years. Alternatively, the author watched Michael Sheen in Bright Young Things and you know what that means… (Aziraphale in makeup? Yes please).

Maybe This Time by orphan_account (T)

There was a cabaret in a city called Berlin, in a country called Germany, in a Europe that just narrowly escaped the end of the world and was rapidly heading towards another attempt. And in that cabaret, an Angel and a Demon were dancing together. The trumpets signaling end times could have been playing, and they wouldn’t have even heard it over the music.

Such Sweet Sorrow by Eldyra (M)

This work is loosely inspired by the wonderful comic "Jazz Baby" by WhiteleyFoster and "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Crowley and Aziraphale meet in 1923 at a party, which they both attend due to an assignment from their respective head offices. Crowley is having a bad night, Aziraphale still feels bad about the Holy Water argument, neither is in a party mood. So they take off together to make a memory that will remain precious to them both for the rest of their lives.

Celestial Bodies by Justkeeptrekkin (M)

The year is 1923. Aziraphale's friends at the gentlemen's club invite him for a weekend away in Devon. He asks Crowley to join. It gets very silly and very messy very quickly. That's just how things were in the roaring twenties.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #1930s #1920s #mod d

[yanderes-galore]

Here is my other request: it's a scenario for a platonic Pop (HTF) that wants reader as a new kid. After Cub died for good, Pop lost his sanity to grief, guilt and loneliness, to the point that nothing in his life mattered anymore. Honestly, i think he wouldn't even mind if his paws were covered in blood. Now, entering Yandere territory. Imagine if this Pop found reader, who is in their twenties. The bear meets a kind, gentle and friendly person who ends up captivating him to the point that he starts to act like a father to them. Maybe it's fate giving him another chance. Now, he promises that he will never let anything happen to his new child, even if his claws and fangs are dripping with the blood of more people. (possible scenario: Lifty and Shifty try to rob reader, only to find a broken and angry bear who has nothing left to lose. The result: two mutilated raccoons. You can put as much gore as you want).

OH BOY! Haven't touched Happy Tree Friends in a while. Time to go back to what I do best... psychotic bears.

May have spelling/grammar errors, it was no properly checked for errors.

Projections

Yandere! Pop Story

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Fear of loss, Mind break, Blood, Gore, Death, Major character death (Cub is dead, so are Lifty and Shifty), Manipulation, Violence, Overprotective behavior, Stalking, Murder, Disturbing descriptions, Dubious companionship.

The death of a child is never easy for a parent. Even if you've seen it countless times... Waking up like it's some nightmare... The trauma sticks with you. Pop thought losing his son would be just another one of his nightmares....

No... life decided it would like to be cruel to him once again.

Pop first lost his wife... now he lost his dearest Cub in a freak accident. The bear still couldn't process the amount of blood on his own fur. He remembers he couldn't stop shaking... his eyes twitching as he stares at the blood on his paws.

Even as he woke up in the morning, it was all still the same. He woke up alone. No wife, no kid, just him.

Just him and the memory of holding his son... Both covered in blood.

Pop didn't think he'd recover. He was tired of these nightmares involving death. All he ever saw was blood deep in his mind and it led the bear to constant nights of suffering.

Pop doubted he'd even be a parent again. He doubted he'd even get to feel the joys of that anymore. No... he was a failure, just a bear undeserving of his own name.

However... then life decided it wanted to play nice again.

Out on a walk, Pop met you.

You were an adult who had been partaking in college. You were at the park to catch some fresh air after studying and came across Pop. Being respectful, you offer chat to the bear.

Pop was hesitant at first but eventually joined you on a bench. From there, Pop learned you were kind... gentle... and friendly. You cared to listen to what he's gone through and you two managed to become good... friends...?

Pop wonders if Cub would've grown up to be just like you if he was alive. The thought brings tears to his eyes for just a moment, yet you manage to distract him from the pain. You... You were such a sweet angel.

Perhaps you were sent to him as a second chance.

A chance to be redeemed as a parent and mentor.

Since your meeting in the park, Pop has offered himself up as a mentor for you. He became someone you could rely on as you worked through college. Part if him wonders how Cub would've done at college....

Unbeknownst to you, you became a replacement for Cub. In Pop's eyes, you were his new kid. A kid he'd do anything to protect...

Anything as long as it meant you lived a safe and happy life.

Pop never took his eyes off you. He had your number in his phone and tried to be near you at all times. He even decorated your nickname in his phone.

Pop often invited you to bowling, he offers to play Tetris with you... He even asks if you like barbecue. He wants to prove he can be a good father figure for you. He's trying his hardest to embrace this second chance he was gifted with.

Although, the true test came quicker than he thought.

Pop never liked Lifty and Shifty. The two raccoons were no good crooks who took advantage of others. He didn't think he could hate them more.

Until he caught them robbing you in an alley.

After that... all that was left was red.

Pop never saw you cower into the corner as he lunged at the two raccoons. Pop never heard himself roar as he tore into their flesh. He barely even tasted the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

The alleyway becomes painted red. The squeals and screeches of raccoons rings out before going dead silent. The smell of gore stings in your nose.

Pop's onslaught only stops when he hears sobbing. Your sobbing brings him back to reality. To him it sounds like the cry of a baby...

His baby.

Pop snaps back, spitting out chunks of flesh as he looks down. Once again... he's covered in blood... and it's not another nightmare. The taste is all real and he stares down at the mangled and gouged corpses of the raccoons who tried to rob you.

His wide bloodshot eyes snap to you. You're crying... screaming... but he saved you. Those raccoons can't hurt you anymore.

They're dead forever... just like Cub... just like his family...

But he has you now... and you have him.

"Sweetheart..." The bear finally speaks, coming closer as you try to scurry away. "It's all going to be okay... they can't hurt you anymore."

You try to run, but the bear quickly pulls you into his arms. You struggle and gag at the feeling of blood and gore in his fur. You want to go home.

"Just relax..." The bear coos. "Papa bear is here now... just calm down."

Eventually you relax yourself in an attempt to appease Pop. He smiles softly... his smile bloody. You convulsed in disgust again before Pop sighs.

"Let's get you home, baby..." Pop chirps, dragging you out of the alleyway.

"We both need to get cleaned up!"

You follow him reluctantly... Too tired and stressed to fight... although you begin to assume you aren't going to your home tonight.

#yandere happy tree friends #yandere htf #yandere pop #yandere pop the bear #platonic yandere

[probablygayattorneys]

I told my brother that if I never play Azran Legacy then Emmy never leaves and I can keep her in that moment forever

And he decided to lift the burden on me by just telling me why she left, thereby ripping off that bandaid. Only problem is, he’s never played Azran Legacy (or any Layton game, for that matter) so he doesn’t know either. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him, so he came up with a reason. And then a few more, just in case.

These reasons include:

-Roundhouse kicked a high ranking government official and is avoiding trial

-Layton doesn’t kill people… but he doesn’t always save them either, and then the train crashed.

-Took the fall for Two-Face killing cops so Harvey Dent’s legacy will live on

-She was the only one who could disarm the bomb but to keep her wife and kids safe she let Descole break her neck.

-Flashed her titties to everyone and is now off to find new people to flash

-She wasn’t actually the Professor’s assistant, she was his apprentice, but near the end of the game she really deepens her connection with the Force and starts to believe that she can overpower him and become the new Professor… however, when she tried to pull off this fight, it’s over, Emmy, the Professor has the high ground.

-Got a job at Hooters which has been a longtime dream of hers and the Professor told her she absolutely could not abandon her dreams to stay his assistant

-Bees.

-She learned the greatest secret the American government has been trying to keep from the public for years (Obama's last name) and had to be eliminated by any means possible.

-Emmy sacrificed herself to save the rest of them from the balrog but she comes back in New World Of Steam as Emmy the White.

-Got a ticket for the Eras tour and is still stuck in traffic leaving the stadium

-She was in a motorcycle accident and plowed into the side of an airplane hanger. She was so innocent… and stoned, apparently.

-After they all sang Seize the Day, she wasn’t able to escape from the cops and they hauled her off to the refuge.

-It’s not Emmy. The first Emmy you see, the teenage one he helps is Emmy, but every single one since is Don Paolo.

-She was just a courier, meant to deliver something to New Vegas, but the game was rigged from the start.

-Moved to Seattle with Grosky to start their own law office.

-This one just says "Bones"

-Was killed by 30-50 feral hogs that ran into her yard within 3-5 minutes while Luke was playing.

-Drove a segway off a cliff

-Bruce Willis was DEAD the ENTIRE TIME!

-Left a note that says “Professor’s Assistant Emmeline Altava Chooses Death” and then fucked off to Europe or something for a year

-She ran away to be with Descole. She was attracted to his manly figure. His Waluigi like body. His spindly little legs. The cut of his jib, if you will.

-Rode her Vespa into a crowd of people while screaming “PEPSI MAN!”

-Didn’t learn STREET SMARTS from JJ Bittenbinder and went to a secondary location

-“Tell me about the rabbits, Emmy.”

-She’s a Russian sleeper agent sent to kill the professor and it’s just taken so damn long because a good hitman doesn’t leave collateral damage but she finally got Layton away from Luke long enough to get the job done.

-Was at a bar on international women’s day, did two shots and tried to fight another girl which caused an all out full bar fight and she fell into a coma after a third girl hit her over the head with an almost full bottle of Hood River Gin.

-Professor Sycamore’s airship flew her to places she’d never been… now she’s lying on the cold hard ground (goat noise)

-The time machine wasn’t stable enough to keep her in the present and it sent back in time to the moment the time machine exploded, sealing her fate.

-Moved to France to learn how to be a heart surgeon.

-She finally was approved to manage her own Dairy Queen franchise.

-She is dead and has been for the past ten years. The professor needs to let her go. The accident wasn’t his fault.

-She walked to Memphis to become a dentist. Anything but this.

-Most think... She died.

-....But I think we oughta believe she made it to the other side :)

#professor Layton and the Azran legacy #Emmy altava #I’m queuing this almost three months in advance #so by the time it posts I’ll almost definitely know #or I will still be playing A Wonderful Life and no one will have seen or heard from me since the release date #could go either way #also do not ask me for clarification on any of these #lord knows I don’t know and my brother probably forgot about the entire conversation the next day #queue takumi defense squad #actually when i stopped playing AL i kept pushing it back #worried that somehow by some bizarre trick one of them would actually be weirdly close to the truth #so we've been adding to it literally all throughout the summer and fall and will continue to until it goes live #and i will probably continue to do that until i finish AL #so either you will never see this post #or someone finally held me accountable #and on that day #i will move this post up to the very top of the queue

[readymades2002]

on the bright side it was a good day for birds today! there have been birds on our porch for the first time which we haven’t seen since moving and so i’ve been like :O all day over it. also families of birds are nesting in the trees by my desk window <3 peace and love on planet earth

#there are birds with yellow heads in the trees! can you imagine a yellow bird! #one of the porch birds has a head that was--and this is true i swear on my life-PINK? #and there was a total of THREE(!!!) juncos on the porch I HAVENT SEEN THEM IN A YEAR!!! I MISSED THEM!!! #and of course on the roof across from me the mourning doves have still been hanging out and they were waddling around together #and a few days ago they were all fluffed up and snuggling. the world is full of small wonders all the time always #my little guys are doing well too!! they've been sitting with me while they're out playing and its always nice to see them #the lovebird is letting me hold him more and even pet his head a bit even though i am so so bad at using my fingers delicately #all three of them like to sit on my computer screen and watch what im doing its very fun :) its like streaming

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ FEARLESS, STUPID

tw. a/b/o, military au, dystopian au, noncon, threesome, heat, dumbification, double penetration, patronization/ degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, dom/sub themes, choking, anal play, a lot of spit and cum, size kink, tummy bulging, mentions of human captives, kinda forced prostitution wordcount. 9.8k

a/n. I had a lot of fun writing this one bc it’s just extremely fairycore and indulgent. heavily inspired by rhi and her incredible brain for writing the hand that feeds!!! I love that fic and have always wanted to write smt set in vaguely the same world. thank you to everyone who beta read as well I appreciate it soooo much ♡♡

geto suguru, kong shiu, fushiguro toji x fem!reader

The air is dry and cold, enough to hurt on the way in. It’s cold enough for your warm air to come back out and form droplets on your nose that drip into the snow.

Your head down, crouched in the smallest shape you can make yourself, is how you find yourself drifting in and out of focus. Not only are you cold and hungry, but it’s been long enough for the scent of smoke and ash and foul, sour fear to have started losing it’s smell. You can’t even expend the energy to move your head to the side and look, without getting tired. The crunching of the heavy boots in the snow is the only thing that’s pulling you back into it. That and the occasional clang of the line of cuffs shaking around someone’s wrists.

It’s gone quiet now.

You wonder if others have fallen asleep. You’re not far off yourself. When some commotion happens over by the gates, some of the uniformed figures rush to go look, feet kicking up snow as they go — It’s a blur of shouts and orders, before the loud hum of an armored vehicle stops not too far away. That’s all it takes to wake you up again, and despite yourself, your arms start shaking in their place behind your back. The cold of the metal radiates all through your bones.

You realize you’re scared. That’s the thumping between your ears.

“Lieutenant. Good evening, Sir.”

A soft, almost warm voice stands in stark contrast against the cold of the surroundings when the feet stop a few steps short of the kneeling row of people. “At ease, soldier.” He sounds older than some of the youthful faces you’ve seen here, dragging people around by their ankles to stuff them into loaded trucks. But not old. Not nearly old enough to carry the weight he does. “What’s all this?” the voice pivots, aimed now towards your group. A few of the women beside you uneasily shuffle in their places.

“Captives from a raid by the fifth division this morning. They interfered with the commission’s supply line when they tried to escape.”

You smell smoke with each breath. The man makes a soft humming noise, before he scans the row of kneeling people again. “So why are they still here? We have plenty of mouths to feed already.” You have seen what they do with prisoners here. Just this one, long day has shown you all you need to know. Your life will be short and unnoticed, and if you’re lucky, you won’t go through hell before you’re shot between your eyes. The cold air makes clouds in front of your face, as the steam rises above the snow into the black night. “Beta's?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You strain your neck to tilt your head up. You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the wrongful association of that voice, smooth and lithe and easy- with the pain you’ve witnessed. You don’t have much hope of making it out, and though you could beg, you’re not even sure if they see you as human enough to consider a plea a plea. Your eyes glide up the perfectly fitted suits, dark gray and gold until you find the face of the leader— and startle. Long, black hair is tied into a sloppy bun in his neck, and long bangs almost hide one eye from view.

But the eyes are striking and sharp and long lashes frame them against pale skin, and you can’t look away when his lips form the words. “So, kill them.” His cigarette burns bright orange when he takes another pull.

The younger of the two only lets out the briefest breath. “...Yes, Sir.”

The fear makes the pitched whimper get stuck in your throat, and more puffy clouds drift out of your lips when you start to shuffle in a panic. Not fight, you don’t ever fight. The man turns on his heel. And you’re not the only one, as soon cries and sniffles and the petrified glances only set you off more. Your eyes drop to the muddied, dirty patches of snow that the cars drove through, the people around the camp; as your stomach turns and your bottom lip starts to wobble. You knew this is how you’d turn out.

As soon as they put the cuffs on and tossed you onto the ground to wait… your own whimpering just melts into that of the others, but peaks when a hand grabs you by the hair and yanks you up, then lifts you by your arm. “No, no, stop!” The girls around you start screaming too, one grabbing at your arms to pull you back down. But the soldier doesn’t hesitate to kick her in the nose, as you cry, trembling like a kitten picked up by her neck.

Everyone’s scared for themselves, but they’re scared for you too, and you for them. “Stop, please! Please!” They cry. The blood thumping between your ears makes it hard to focus on anything but the painful grip on you, and the disgusted face of the man before you. When you don’t make any effort to fight, he drops you back down into the cold snow, and instead aims the long barrel of his gun straight at you.

You can’t even look away, as your heart rate slows. As you watch the small snowflakes come from the sky to meet you.

“Wait.” The voice returns when he stops halfway to the car, and makes your eyes shoot up to find his face, as shivers roll down your back. You know you’re stinking up the place, as the placating hands of the girls around you reach to brush fingers. It’s not much, but allows you to take a sniveling breath. “This one’s an Omega… Settle down, soldier. We’re not trying to hurt, are we?” The buzzcut’s eyes widen slightly, maybe as he takes a first good look at you and notices the smaller frame, big doe-like eyes, the softer set of your face and demeanor. Just as quickly as he gives you another up and down, he steps aside and lowers his heavy-duty gun back to the ground.

The older one takes a step back towards you. Your face must be windbitten, lips cracked and cold and stained with tears where you sit, but the noiret doesn’t falter as he drops into a squat before you. His face breaks out into a soft smile, and his hand rises to brush along your cheek, avoiding the black eye as he goes. “You’re a rare find. You on blockers?” Not enough recent ones to keep out all of the scent, clearly.

It’s not a question that needs answering, but as his thumb brushes over your lip, you find yourself giving the smallest nod. Gently, careful not to make any harsh movements. He does the same when he helps you right yourself back onto your knees, and then gives you a slow, calculated trace with his ocean-dark, silvery eyes. “Smart. We almost missed out on you with all the Beta stench.” A small furrow worms between his brows. “Are there others?” He asks, and then gives a swift continuation. “Don’t lie. If you lie I’ll know.”

Your voice cracks when you start. “I- If I tell you- what will happen to them?”

With only the slightest bit of hesitation, he seems to mull it over. Sharp, angular features soften just a bit as he draws his hand back from your face to run it under his nose instead. And whatever he smells must soothe the urge to get angry at being questioned, because his cheeks push up genially until his eyes are practically just moons. “How’s this? I’ll be fair, after hearing whatever information you have.” The anxiety ebbs and flows as you look to the faces at your side, then swallow.

Your heart hammers wildly in your chest. You have no reason to lie. There’s no one left that didn’t get shot as they ran… You clear your strained voice with a tight cough. “I- this is all that’s left. There’s no one else. We had people who escaped before you even closed in. B-but there weren’t any Omega’s left, the last raid already took them all. That’s all I know.” You try to keep your bottom lip from wobbling as you talk, ignoring the cold of the tears that are now freezing on your lashes.

Those dark, unrelenting eyes don’t waver as you speak, and you can’t help but wonder what it is he sees. Surely he knows, you wouldn’t need to lie. Just as you start getting anxious at the silence, he gets up from the floor, before dusting impatient hands over his pristine jacket— and a saccharine smile slips back onto his lips as he waves a hand. “Bring the Omega.” You jump when the soldier from earlier immediately starts yanking at your chains, but that’s it. It’s not in your nature to fight back. Then the Lieutenant walks back to the car as another opens it for him, and casts a final glance your way.

The smile doesn’t fall when he shifts that gaze to the side, and sucks his teeth. “Kill the monkeys.”

+

There’s nothing more embarrassing than having to fight your nature at every turn. You’re confronted with it more than you’ve ever been before, when they drag you across the cold tiles with your legs kicking, tears rolling in thick beads down your face and neck. You’re not a fighter. You’re not made for it. At every chance, your body chooses the easiest way out, oblige now, suffer later. Even when your mind screams at you to run, bite and kick and escape — you stay down. Cold metal slices into the tender and sore skin of your wrists when they yank you up another few feet, before dropping you onto the floor next to the makeshift desk.

You’re sniveling like a child. The man behind the desk looks at the several soldiers who stay put, before lifting an eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Geto says you’re to clean her up for processing.” One of the men sighs, before glaring down at you with a tight-lipped frown. It sets the hairs on your neck on end to feel such blatant displeasure from an Alpha.

The lighter haired young man stands from the chair at that, and gives you a quick once over. “For the barracks or to be sent to the commission?” He smiles when you look up at him, gentler, then places a warm hand on the top of your head to start soothing you. It’s enough to make your lip wobbly. The little bit of warmth isn’t enough… but it feels so nice. So good, to have a caring touch.

One of the other soldiers takes the heavy strap off his shoulder to put the gun down, and grunts. “Neither.” His top lip lifts into a scowl as he glares at the corner of the room, before turning to look down at you too. “Personal pick, I heard.”

The other soldier remains at the door, but clicks his tongue. “And we’re supposed to keep our mouths shut about it.”

“You ever had an Omega?” The one asks the other, nervously grinding his gun in circles. “I haven’t. Yet we’re going to war for ‘em… Only for pompous pricks to get first pick of the litter because they’re bold enough not to report to the commission.” The soldier grins without any amusement from across you, and you can’t help but hide more into the leg of the man who’s still touching you kindly. “Goin’ to war for pussies like yours… must make you something real special, right? But you’re unreported. What’s keeping me from just… taking you for myself?” Then he looks between the two other men. “I’m even willing to share between the three of us if you’d help out. Keep some things quiet.”

“You said the Lieutenant picked her out because he liked her, right?” The lighter haired man runs his free hand through his undercut, then leans down to lift you under your arms and get you onto tired legs against him. “Means you got something in return for keeping a secret already.” He’s all wired muscle under the uniform he wears, and wraps his arm around the small of your back before picking you up entirely. “Don’t do something stupid. There’s no place to keep her where some officer wouldn’t smell her anyway. Can’t keep her under your mattress like a pack of cards, can you?” He starts walking you towards the doors of a presumed bathroom without complaining, even though the other guy clicks his tongue.

“Itadori. You think you’re helping out just being another dog for the commission?”

“Instead of a thief?” He pushes the door open with one hand, already walking through. “Go get your free drinks or cigarettes or whatever he promised you, and do your job. I’m doing mine.”

The door falls shut with a loud noise behind you both, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Your arms wrap a little tighter around his neck. “T-Thank you.”

His grey eyes find yours, before he smiles again. Softer. He’s an Alpha too, but must come into contact with your kind more frequently. He feels gentler to the touch when he speaks. “Don’t thank me yet.” Then he deposits you in a stained, old bathtub, and sighs before grabbing the showerhead. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. Ranking officers like their girls extra clean.” When you don’t move, he goes to take off your dirty shirt, and you only shiver in place as it happens.

After a few seconds of silence where he brushes fingers over the unmarked stretch of your neck, you swallow tightly. “You can’t let me go, can you?”

Itadori turns up the water until it’s warm, and his brows flatten. “…No. I’m here to do a job. I’m sorry.” You believe him. Doesn’t make you feel any better, though.

+

The cot is barely big enough for you, and the cold from the floor radiates up through the ratty, old mattress into you. But it’s still better than sleeping in the bed where Geto sleeps, where he can get his hands all over you, hold you, cling to you. You’re glad that the Lieutenant doesn’t particularly care whether or not you shy back away from him for the night, as long as you don’t act up when he wants you close. It’s an unwritten contract he likes to pretend you have. As if you weren’t forced into it. As if you had any choice.

The starchy sheets are cold too, they leave you shivering more than sleeping. When you walk through the halls you’re cold and barefoot and uncomfortable, but when you’re here you’re colder, naked and more uncomfortable.

You don’t know that much about the army. You don’t know that much about other things either, but you know that Omega’s are few and far in between. You know they go for lots of money, money that even Geto doesn’t have. You know that he’s using you to your full potential before his higher-ups find out, and that too much commotion would draw attention of the commission. Attention you don’t want. When your teeth start chattering, the man in the large bed, with the soft pillows and body heat calls.

Says your name like he means it. Like he likes to whisper to get under your skin- holding your life between slim fingers. He sighs. “Come. Get into bed. I can’t sleep when you’re not sleeping. And you’re not going to sleep when you’re shivering to death.”

“I’ll sleep,” you softly assure, pull your thin blanket closer. Your feet are cold and the room isn’t dark enough for it to actually happen. But you can pretend.

“I’m not asking.” You know he’s not. Maybe it’s because the alarm clock is showing an ungodly hour— and he’s tired. It wouldn’t be the first time his boot meets your cheek when you whine too much, displease him in ways Geto doesn’t like. “Come.”

He yawns when opening the blankets, waves you closer. An Alpha demands, and your lungs ache to follow the order. It physically hurts to resist. Your thin layer of tears sit on your waterline for a while before you shift. Slip across the room naked, and crawl into the bed under his arm. “That’s a good pet…” The panes of his chest are warm enough to have you melting like ice into his shape and mold yourself to him. It’s in the weight of his arm over your waist as he pulls you in close. Tethers you. You want to be and stay mad. Frightened.

It’s just�� Geto’s scent’s become one you can bury yourself into. Your hands ball against his chest, and the fingers he presses into your hips stray down.

Your breathing hitches at the touch, and your stomach seems to want to crawl up into your mouth when he spreads your legs apart. “I’m hardly the worst one here. Get used to it already. People here are frustrated. Many of them haven’t had an Omega in years.” His rough fingertips slide between your legs and trace over the raw, achy mess he made of you not hours before. It’s sticky and uncomfortable, and you jerk when he rather impatiently starts thumbing your clit. It hurts- enough to make your face scrunch as you hide it into his pecks. “You don’t even know how lucky you are that I’ve kept you to myself.”

You do know that, though. You’ve passed by some of the barracks further away from the officer buildings. You’ve smelled the Omega fear, the blood and sweat and ruts; or what it’s like for a person to beg for a moment of reprieve. You have not a scratch on you, and you should be more grateful than you are. That you’re not taking a whole division’s sexual frustration to keep them from killing each other. When his fingers slide the wetness, remnants of slick and cum back into you and force your pussy to stretch again- you start sniffling against him. “I know I am,” you whimper, biting your lip. It’s not enough to just be this. You can’t just lay and wish for it all to go away. You have to be a participant, or Geto might switch you out.

As you whimper, swallowing back the tears- he presses his lips against your forehead. “Can’t help but cry? Poor baby.” He grinds the fleshy part of his palm against your pussy, breathing against you. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“I- Feels- b-big,” you choke out, twitching when his fingers curl into you and fuck deeper until they stroke much deeper than your own. The coldness fades a little when he rolls you over onto your back and gets on top, pinning you with his thigh. “Geto-sama- Please stop, I’m still- sore. It- it hurts really bad.”

With a slight frown, he pulls his fingers out of you and wipes them on your thigh, before sighing. Your eyes crack open at the lack of touch. His long black hair falls down over his shoulders, as he holds himself above you— and stares at you for a moment too long. One where he seems to consider your feelings at least a little, for once, brushing his clean thumb along your neck and shoulder. “I’m going back to the front soon. Do you know what that means?”

You’re not sure if it’s meant to be patronizing… but you don’t know. The wet, cold numbness that returns to your cunt is an unexpected unease. You wanted to stop. You did. But when he sits back on his heels and looks at you for a few seconds in abject silence, the distance feels too far. Geto comes back to you with a furrowed brow, before a line of kisses is pressed along your jaw and neck, where he takes a deep breath and makes your entire body purr. “Means you’ll be passed on to some other scum.” He almost growls when he says it, urges your one leg over his thigh to make room.

“I put in a good word that if I come back you’ll come back to me- but…” His sharp eyes find yours blown out and dark, as he pulls you closer to his hips and rolls himself against you. His hard cock- he’s always hard when you’re in his bed, bops as he grabs himself and pumps a few achingly slow strokes. A translucent drop of precum drops to your pussy, and he spits on his hand and your pussy for good measure. “I’ll be two months without this soft Omega cunt squeezing me to sleep.” As he groans and slides the flushed head of his cock against you, he presses his weight into you again. “Let me use you. Or see what fucking happens.”

+

The hearth burns at the far end of the pristine, wooden room. Enough to make your hands clammy, shifting yourself back and forth between both legs- before glancing up to Geto once more. He looks more pampered today. Standing straight with only his fingers looped loosely around your arm. For a split second you wonder if you’d be able to make it down the marble set of stairs and across the courtyard into the shallow bushes— but it’s only a moment. Not more than a brief hope that instantly gets snuffed out when the heavy doors slide open, and a deep grunt passes by you both.

Geto salutes, the man does not. He only clears his voice with a mix of impatience and -tobacco, probably, before motioning his head towards the desk. “Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” His voice is frighteningly low, more rumble and bass than anything else, and sets the hairs on your arms on end.

His half-lidded eyes flick from the man beside you, ever so swiftly to you, then back. Face blank, uncaring. You stumble when Geto takes a few steps forward, basically dragging you behind him towards the chairs. When he lets you go, he gives you a look, and so you sit. Hands folding in your lap to keep them from picking at the edges of your clothing.

Or lack thereof. There’s a clean gold plate with the name Shiu Kong engraved at the very front of the desk, staring back at you. Your Alpha doesn’t hesitate to sit down too. “Major General Kong, Sir. A pleasure as always. You’ve lost some weight?”

“Hardly,” the man shoots right back, unfazed. “You can lay off the flattering.”

Geto and the stranger seem to converse with their eyes for a moment, before your owner gets comfortable in the velvet chair beside you, and hangs his arms over the back with a slight smile. The other man doesn’t bother to sit in his own chair across from you, instead just bending to get out one of the no-doubt expensive cigarettes, and lighting it. The smoke travels in slow, winding circles up to the ceiling as he hums. “So, the Omega. Y’ want to buy her?”

“I’d like her returned to my possession with the least amount of scratches when I get back, Sir.”

“We’re in a war, Suguru.” The man takes a short puff of his cigarette again, before putting his foot onto the chair and leaning in just barely. Dark, grayish eyes narrow. “You can’t pick out playthings at your whim. We have rules about these sorts of things.” The ash goes into the overfull ashtray, before those irises find you where you’re still slumped in the too-big chair. Almost amused, he lets out a bit of air through his nose, before punctuating his words with another drag. “Higher ranks get first picks, but if you’re gone, you’ll have to share. She looks healthy, young. Girls like that go for a lot of money these days.”

“I understand, Sir.” Geto’s smile doesn’t slip though, not even when he takes one of your hands and pulls until you get up. With his prompting, you instead sit back down on his lap instead, and the noiret hooks his chin over your shoulder when he strokes your thigh. You duck your head in shame. “It’s just that- she’s more of an indoor pet. I’d like to keep it that way, if possible.” His other hand winds under your chin to nudge it back up into view, as you shiver. Watch the attention of the superior officer linger just a second on the way your shirt falls around your hips.

Geto’s. “You have a mansion not too far from the front, as I understand it? And due to surely unfortunate consequences, your last Omega… broke.” His voice gleams as he says the words, and they seem to wind like a coiled spring around your neck. “I’m more than willing to part with mine for a while, if I could have a guarantee she’d be close by. Used sparingly.” You don’t know enough about the army to know if Shiu Kong has the kind of strings that Geto’s presuming he has— but you don’t really dare complain. The silence drags; before it crumbles into pieces when a slight relaxation pulls at the older man’s lips, cocking his head.

“Have her stand.”

You do, spurred on by the quick pat to your thigh and a winning smile, eyes fluttering as you trace the patterns on the floor. As the presence of the older Alpha fills your senses and he circles around you too close, he smells of smoke and a deep, woody musk that could bring you to your knees if you weren’t so used to it by now. After a round where his finger patiently brushes past your most valued features, he takes your face into his palm and forces your eyes up. Until you can no longer ignore the handsome face ducking down to meet your gaze.

You whimper. Let your face get turned here and there before he takes the end of the cig from between his lips, and addresses you directly. “You got a name?”

“Y-yes.” You stumble out, basically whispering it when he stares like that. He doesn’t have a kind face like Geto does, you notice, more angular, stubbled, at least a decade older too. You find yourself reaching for Geto’s hand despite knowing better, if only to have something to cling to as you blink away nervous jitters, and excess tears that are always ready to spill. Your bare feet shuffle against the carpet below.

Whatever he sees staring back at him is enough for his fingers to drop to your collar, dragging it either side with a grunt. “It’s some skill to find an unmated, pretty, little Omega hidden from the commission, Lieutenant… One would almost call it suspicious.” There’s a hint of amusement, one he pushes out alongside the butt of the cig. As if he knows he’s in, Suguru stands from the chair to put a comforting hand on your back and rubs circles through the flimsy fabric of his oversized shirt, tucking his thumb into the loose boxers you’re wearing below.

“I just get lucky, Sir. Omega’s delivered to the commission lose their charm too quickly, s’all.”

Shiu’s eyes give you another slow up and down, then he clicks his tongue. “So, what do you want in return for this present?”

“Nothing at all, really.” The hand pulls you into his side to nuzzle along your neck for some extra show, where he nibbles at the sensitive spot— makes you whimper like a bitch in heat. It’s loud enough for the other man to eat you up whole with his eyes, puffing out his chest a little to push off the desk. The swift hand wrapped around you gives you an adoring squeeze, before Suguru pouts into your temple like he’s parting with a prized possession. “Just that I get her back once I’m done with my service at the front in a few months.” 

“Done.” Shiu busies himself with the bottle of expensive looking liquor, before casting you another glance. “Dress her in some actual clothes though, will ya? She already attracts enough attention as is.”

+

You stare at the fogged-up window with your duvet tucked to your chest, and breathe a few shallow breaths. There’s soldiers running up and down the camp, tucking their caps low against the biting wind. You only bother to follow one of them with your eyes, light hair peeking out from under the hat as he runs his laps. Instead of lingering on the thought, you shiver when a heavy, muscular arm pulls you around your waist and down into the bed. Shiu’s quick to let out a grunt, before opening his eyes and hooking his chin over your shoulder to nose at your neck. “You’re goin’ into heat soon?”

You barely dare shift when his stubble tickles your throat, and a few rough kisses get placed right over your pulse. “Probably. I-I’ll- ah-” His hand wraps around the base of your neck as he starts sucking on the sore skin, where bruises still sit from yesterday. You’re not sure if it’s his hands wrapped around your neck that caused it, or the way he bullied his cock way too deep into your throat— but you’re so sore. “I’ll need heat blockers for a while.”

“Mh,” he smells like tobacco. And a heavy, manly musk that’s so overwhelmingly Alpha. It’s distracting. It melts your tongue to the bottom of your teeth. “No need. We’re far enough away here that they won’t smell you. Or if they do, they can’t do anything about it anyway.” You blank, only to mewl and curl away when his lips and tongue rakes over a particularly sore spot, making your toes curl.

“But- b-but I,” you stutter, and one hand comes up to protect your scent gland from him as he gets up onto one arm to get on top of you. You haven’t gone through a proper heat in forever. It wasn’t ever safe even with just Beta’s around— you barely even remember what it feels like. Only that it hurts so bad it could make you sick. “But I don’t want to go into heat. It hurts.”

Shiu stops his barrage on your neck to frown at you, as he nudges your legs aside for his own thick thighs. One eyebrow raises at you like you’re dumb. “It doesn’t hurt when I’m here to breed you full, little girl.” He scans your face as he keeps pushing your one knee to your chest, before his mouth flattens out. “You don’t know that? You’ve never had an Alpha cock in here during heat?” It’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing— the way he eyes you like you’re some sort of idiot. It’s not like you had the privilege of trying it out before all this, hiding like a mouse. “Aw, baby girl. You’re so sweet.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“Daddy’ll have to teach you.” His large hand forces it’s way between your legs to squeeze your cunt and make you squirm under him, before he finally sits back and pushes the covers off, revealing the battle-worn body. “But not right now. Get up and go wash. We’re having company over.”

Your mouth’s dry, so you swallow tightly. “Who?” Your legs still tingle even when he gets out of bed, a little numb, a little achy.

“A… friend, I guess.” He picks out one of the cigarettes on the side table after putting on a shirt, and plops it between his lips. “You won’t like him.”

With sweat rolling down your neck, you stumble across the steam-coated tiles and grab onto the sink. Shaking like you’re ill. You definitely feel that way. It makes your entire skin feel statically charged, and sore, and so painfully needy. As soon as you take another step, you almost immediately topple over, legs trembling despite yourself. There’s no better sign than the dry feeling in your throat, and the way a whimper threatens to escape you with every move.

So you do all you can, and start tearing up as you wrap a towel around yourself. Even your own innocent touch feels too much, and you hurry through the process to barely manage pulling on a top and some panties, before your body refuses to oblige. You want to cry. Why did this have to happen now? Why here? Shiu hasn’t been bad to you, but he also isn’t particularly gentle. You didn’t want to go through heat at all. “Mh-mn, need- agh.” You whine thoughtlessly, as you wobble to the door.

There’s a swell of voices from down the hall— talking that doesn’t last long before falling quiet as you make your way to the bed. You’re so hot that it’s hard to keep your eyes open, your thighs rubbing uncomfortably as you walk. Thick, almost sticky tears wobble on your waterline, and the heat in your stomach sinks right into your center the more of the room you take in. It’s not your fault - everywhere you look it stinks of Alpha musk. Thick and overpowering to your flighty brain, it makes you want to keel over onto fours. You really are just a bitch in heat, and that is embarrassing too.

Makes you want to curl up onto a solid chest and let yourself get bounced onto his cock like a ragdoll.

It takes so much of your effort to drag yourself to the pillowed surface that you fail to hear the steps coming closer, let alone control that you’re scenting up the entire top floor when you crawl in and your pussy starts clenching around nothing. You’re mewling faint nothings as you stuff your face into the blankets— and smell only him. Heavy on your wet tongue. 

“Agh, I- Al-pha, I need- it hurts. It hurts, I want you~” With your chest to the bed and your legs raised up, you just feel like you need to— to get filled up to the brim to make this aching stop. “Mhmm-ugh, please, pleas- need you, Shiu~” Slick’s already coating your pussy enough to slip right in, wet like the spit in your mouth that gathers under your tongue. Your head’s so light. It’s spinning.

Then, a heavy palm strokes over your crown, and your noises explode.

“Ah, ah, agh, daddy, daddy.” The weight of the touch travels down your neck to grip you, and your body curls to raise your ass even further up in need of friction. “Daddy, please. I don’t want to~ T-told you I- need-ed blockers. Ah, ahh.” The low chuckle you get isn’t the one you expect, but you can’t open your eyes enough to see what’s going on.

“Bit friendly for a hello, isn’t it?” There’s a huge body that surrounds you when leaning over you, as lips travel down behind your ear. “S’cute though. That’s a pretty girl. Daddy’s here.” Rough hands push your hips down with one swift move, slipping two fingers under your panties to pull the fabric taut. The slick grinds the fabric uncomfortably to your cunt, but you can’t be still. “Already drenched through your clothes, pet.” You don’t mean to. You don’t, you’re so sorry. “Whining like a little baby, need to get filled up?” 

“Only thinking with this pussy, right? This is why Omega’s don’t run anything…” The lips ghost over your scent glands, making you squirm with dripping anticipation, when he lets his tongue run over his teeth and then along your throat. The juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, untouched and open and soft. He groans. “Ugh, fuckin’ hell, you’re so sweet. Your scent is almost making me sick.” One hand digs sharp nails into the meat of your ass, as the other reaches around to start pulling your camisole down over your sensitive tits. “Want some love from daddy, baby?”

A slightly raspier voice comes from somewhere behind you and drowns out your own whining and mewling. “I thought I told you to wait, Fushiguro.”

“Your pet was crying, Kong.” He rakes his teeth over that one spot again until you can’t stand it anymore, and your tears start dripping into the blankets. You push your chest out until his warm palm reaches around and squeezes, rubbing a thumb over your nipples. “Plus, just smell her. She’s scenting up the whole house. I wanted to come help.” After a long pause where you’re fighting the need to rub yourself on anything cock shaped like an animal— you’re turned over by a sturdy yank on your shoulder, and long fingers slide into your messy, drool filled mouth to press on your tongue.

Its Shiu, whose normally stern brow now is arched in amusement. The man on the bed with you moves away just enough to let you take a look, and take in the messy dark hair and almost metallic blue eyes, scarred face and dog tags hanging from his neck as he rolls onto his side. Shiu pinches your tongue to make you squeak, then leans in. “See you’ve already made introductions.” You mumble a pathetic ‘daddy’ under his sharp gaze, before he takes a deep breath.

“Poor girl, already going into heat? You didn’t last long. Needy, little pussy’s throbbing, isn’t it?” He pulls the top fully down until it’s hooked under your tits, then hums. “Look so cute when you’re begging to get fucked.”

“Gonna let me have a turn too?” Fushiguro rights himself onto one forearm, then pushes a finger down on your forehead until it's tilted all the way back and you’re looking up at him again. He’s got a mean sort of look in his eyes, right before his lips twitch when you groan softly at the touch. You literally can’t help yourself. It hurts so good— good enough to make you want to wrap your legs around either of their hips and stay there. Aches.

Shiu’s voice resonates through your body when he moves to kneel down to your body and starts kissing from your belly up, making you twitch. His gravelly hum reverberates in your clit, as your legs get spread over each shoulder when he comes up. “She’s not mine to give away Toji, so- ugh- restrain yourself a little.” His big hands smooth over your tits instead of squeezing you like you want, until you really start worming around under their touches.

“Mh~ hurry up!”

It’s out before you know it, and the backlash rushes straight to your cheeks in heat, burning up on your face. Fushiguro groans though, long and deep- before he pushes off the bed to get onto his knees, and grabs himself through the awfully casual clothing. His hand wraps around the large, large cock pressing against the fabric— and when you open your mouth and basically salivate at the sight- he lets out a lightly pinched chuckle. “Oh, you don’t wanna be doing all that, pet. You’ve got days of heat ahead of you— and you’re getting me hard as a motherfucker.”

All it’s doing is making you so horny you can barely see straight, and each inch of your body surges with electricity. You need something inside you. Now. Now, now, now. He runs a distracted hand through his messy fringe, and rolls his hips into his hand with a groan. “What’s it gonna be, Kong? If you take her underwear off I’m not leaving. Sweet, little thing like that…” Your legs are up by his ears when the familiar giant sits up onto the bed too, and your hand reaches for his to pull him closer by his thumb. “Haven’t had a greedy, fertile little Omega pussy in a while- the Commission always bitches I have too much fun.”

A hesitant furrow worms itself between Shiu’s brows for a bit, before he sighs. “Can’t bite ‘er, she’s not mine. I’m just keeping her.” His eyes are more blown out than normal, dark ring of black taking over the longer he touches you. You’re sure you’re similarly spent when you moan his name and he groans. “Fuck, baby. Want this Alpha cock in here?” His large hand smoothed over the supple skin of your lower belly, when you wiggle yourself against him, basically grinding onto his leg. “Needy, huh.” He licks his lips. “Fine, join. Can count us even after that.”

At that the other noiret grins, and pulls his shirt over his head in one swift move of agreement. Shiu’s hands already roam back over every bit of exposed skin. “And I get first turns.” The large fingers mindlessly playing with your nipple pinches you, when grayish eyes find you beneath him. “Get up.” With just a quick motion, you force your sluggish body up and onto fours— and fight the urge to force your head down yet again. That’s what would feel right.

“That-” Shiu’s hard too, you notice quite happily, when you grind back against him to find another thick, heavy bulge in his pants that heats your cunt. “That’s it.” You mewl, have no choice to. As you look back over your shoulder, he takes a moment to study you where you’re so much smaller beneath him. Omega’s always are, but these two are big even among other Alpha’s— more slick sticks your panties to the shape of your cunny. Your body’s entirely sticky with sweat, neck and throat aching and radiating heat all over you.

Your tongue melts in your mouth, when you look back and Fushiguro’s stripped down entirely— shredded body towering over you as well. He squeezes a rough ring around the flushed, pulsing head of his cock. “Uh, ugh-ah, daddy, daddy, daddy- Please? Please.”

“Who are you calling daddy?” The general asks sternly, but there’s no malice there. He’s amused as he peels the panties over the curve of your ass and down ever so slowly, letting your wet folds drip all over his fingers as he plays around in them. The touch makes you stagger forward, arms almost giving in— and you whine something unintelligible into the covers. “Fu~ck, you smell so sweet. Little Omega bitch in heat- ugh.”

A heavy hand lands on the swell of your ass, and stings so bad. With another spank your pussy clenches around nothing, and by the third you’re basically begging and your cunny’s sucking his fingers in. “A-daddy, please. Hurts. Uh-pu-lease. Need Alpha inside. Quickly, please. I-it hurts.” Another hand pets your crown for a few seconds, before he grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head up. Your mouth hangs open, and your tongue drops out at the sight of the hard, veiny cock before you.

It’s flushed a sweet sort of pink, nothing like you can already tell Fushiguro is— but drool still gathers in globs, looking at the precum glistening on him. “Gonna open your pretty, little mouth wide for me, pet?” As he strokes himself, the man behind you starts toying his fingers around your holes, and smears your slick all over until you’re entirely sloppy. Then chuckles, throwing his head back with a grunt.

“Fuck, forgot how hard I get- with Omega’s.” The slick sounds of your pussy, and both men's hands stroking their swollen cocks makes everything so loud. Wet and needy and animalistic— your own whining drowning out your thoughts. You just want more. More touch, please. Shiu spits onto your holes without hesitation and slaps his thick, hot cockhead against you a few times, before placing one hand on the middle of your back to force you in place. “Don’t run away from me- jus-t take it.”

“O-oh-fu-ugh.” He pushes inside with more of his weight, thick thighs pressing up against the inside of yours when you spread wider, and almost get pushed over. If not for Toji holding you up and rubbing himself along your cheek and lips too, impatiently stroking himself.

The head’s already big, stings on the way in. Enough to hurt, enough to make you tear up. He’s just so thick and glowing hot to the touch— basically pulsing inside you. You can feel his heartbeat through the skin as the head pops in with a lot of pressure. Your throat starts making noises despite you. “A-agh, ugh agh, da-I- ca— um-hnggg.”

“My turn,” Toji grunts after a bit, hooking a finger in your cheek to open your mouth more and coach your tongue out. “That’s- a good cockslut— open wide.” You do, letting spit drip as you relax your jaw and wrap your lips around him, filling up your mouth too much. You’ve never been so needy. The choking and the taste only make your eyes want to roll back in your skull, giving yourself over to them. You don’t want to do anything except give yourself over, struggling to make enough space between your legs to allow Shiu closer.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby, uhh-fuck.”

He’s still going slow, necessity, as each inch of his fat cock gets stuffed inside you, using his fingers to push more into your comparatively tiny cunt— and each bit deeper he goes, the more you feel like melting. It hurts, hurts and aches and bulges your stomach; and Fushiguro pushes deeper and bulges your throat- and it hurts- It does. But you can’t stop. You reach your arms out to wrap around the man’s glutes and pull him closer into your face, drool dripping down your chin. “Mh-mhm mhhuh.”

With his tongue trapped between his teeth, he grins. “Hah, you’re talking a lot for someone with their mouth stuffed— Does that feel good? You like choking on Alpha cock?” Your teary eyes try to focus on him, but you can’t, just cling on harder as the cock inside you kisses your cervix and he’s still not done. It aches so much, stretching you much wider than you’re meant to go. But it does, it does, it does. You don’t want to stop. “A little longer, that’s it, a little more~”

Instead you try to hollow your cheeks around him as he sits too deep in your throat, and fight the urge to squirm when your breath starts to pinch. Your body worms, you cry around them, and slick drips down your thighs like syrup. When Shiu bottoms out, it actually makes you gag, feeling so full and spent— and you squirm as Fushiguro keeps you. “Mh-hh- hck.” Your mouth aches as your lungs start to scream, and vision goes blurry.

Shiu pulls back before the other man does, groaning at the sight of sloppy, milky slick coating his cock, then slides back into your warmth just as fast, forcing your body to stretch again to make room. T-too big. “Let her- hh- up, she’s turning blue.” As you’re basically about to pass out, you get pulled off of him and gag violently, before taking sniveling, painful breaths again. You barely get the chance to breathe before your chin is lifted again, and he tilts your face left and right.

Your mouth drops open again, and tongue squirms around nothing. “More? You want more, greedy slut?” He smiles again, but more genuinely impressed this time— and hums. “Such a good, little Omega.” You can’t help it, you shiver and moan when he lets you back at his cock. And Shiu pulls back again only to fuck back into you, forcing you open as he builds a rhythm.

“She liked that one. She’s trying to clench my dick off.” He moans, and his unoccupied hand swipes some wetness dripping down your leg to circle it around your puckered hole instead. “You think she can take two?”

The cock gets stuffed back into your throat, but he pulls back faster now, instead using your head to fuck himself into you as he groans. “‘Nuh uh, she can’t. She’s too tiny— L-ook, you’re already -fuck- bulgin’ er.” He watches your lips struggle to wrap around him as he fucks your throat— only stopping for a moment to wipe some of the spit off your face. “She likes it so much though, look at that. You’re just a dumb, cocksleeve bitch, right? Want Alpha cocks to fill you?”

You can’t answer. Your brain’s all scrambled from the heat, a cloudy, pillowy feeling sitting over everything else. It feels so, so good. Being stretched to your limit, getting used. Your pussy clenches uselessly around the too-big invasion, getting bounced against Shiu’s thighs with a noisy ‘pap, pap, pap’. If you could think, you’d agree though. The pressure of his cock grinding into your sensitive insides, basically lifting you off your knees as he grabs your hips to jackhammer into you deeper, it’s all too much.

“Close?”

You’re drowning in your own arousal. After a few more seconds of getting used for all your worth, the expanding, pulsing pressure in your stomach grows too tight— and your toes curl uselessly as you cum without warning. It shatters inside you as you fail to clench around the thick length in you, instead dropping though your arms as you pull off of the cock in your throat to tremble through your orgasm. “Ah-hgh- ugh ah da-Alpha, Alpha, ahh ah agh! St-hngh~” You cry. Thick tears, spit and snot get wiped into the covers as you try to catch your breath, while still being fucked into.

You can’t stop shaking. Even then, Shiu’s cock keeps forcing the head against your cervix and making your eyes bulge. “Oh fuck, fuck- too tight— shit, I was this close, hah.” When he slips out for a second, you collapse entirely, aching immediately at the emptiness inside you. Your tits are sores, but everything else is burning so hot you feel like you might go up in flames.

It’s Fushiguro who picks you up by your arms and pulls you into his chest after a while, holding your pathetic, naked body like a ragdoll. “So cute now that you’re all flushed, cumming like that. But you’re not done, are you?” His fingers squeeze either side of your cheeks to bring your mouth to his, kissing on you until you respond and let his tongue melt against yours.

Your head’s still spinning, but a different kind of heat grows now in the base of your neck, desperate and needy. Your hand reaches to get more, more skin, pulling at the short hair at the back of his head- you moan into the kiss. Tongues and spit mixing as it slides down your throat and he towers over you, cock bouncing against your stomach. When he pulls back, long lashes brush yours, and you whimper when the touch goes.

Shiu’s staring. You can’t tell what expression he has, but it’s enough to make Fushiguro frown and lift his lip. “Fuck off. I get protective when they whine like that, s’all. She’s sweet when she’s cryin’ all baby like.” He instead focuses on pinching and toying with your puffy nipples, rubbing each side with rough fingertips, then hooks his chin over your head to look past you. “Wanna try the two of us at once?”

Instinct gets the better of you, and you’re already nodding against his pecs before you can think. “Two, two- w-want, please. Mhm, want Alphas.” It makes both men laugh, hands sliding all over you as you stick your ass out and Shiu spits on his hand. His cock’s still coated with wet, a white, creamy layer around the base of his cock as he strokes the head a few times. You’re seeing double, and your tongue feels like molten candy. But still you keep drooling and nodding. “Want, want you, wanna have- m-more, please.”

He then grabs your hips to yank you back against his hips, letting his cock push on your ass as his wet fingers curl inside your puckered hole, and stretch it out with two fingers. “She’s already fucked out of her mind, poor thing.”

“Mhm, agh- Alp- daddy, daddy— s’ sensitive- please, please, please~”

Fushiguro’s face blanks, before he takes a deep breath and groans low and gravelly, and grabs you by the neck. “Ugh, she’s- her scent is everywhere. Little bitch in heat moaning like it’s her job.” He buries his nose right where the most sensitive, burning part of your neck is, making you crumple, and kissing along the shell of his ear where you can reach. The fingers inside you, the pressure and heat of the two cocks against you— everything’s making you crazy. You’re losing your mind, trying to hang on to him as he licks over the glands. “Want daddy, baby?”

Your head bobs like it’s disconnected from your longing, arching body. And you almost cum again on the spot when sharp canines drag over that spot. You just might.

A low growling sound makes you open your eyes. Shiu’s hand is between the face and your neck, much to the other man’s dismay. “I told you not to bite ‘er. Don’t care how much she begs- she’s not ours to bite.” There’s a moment of silence between them, before Fushiguro sucks his teeth in annoyance, before grabbing his cock instead.

“She is mine.” His large hand wraps around your arm, and pulls— but your other shoulder is still clamped in Shiu’s palm. Almost painfully tight, as a muscle twitches in his jaw. And the tension between them is making you clam up, but your body’s still aching too hard.

“Share, please,” you sweeten your voice as you press your lips to Shiu’s knuckles, then present yourself a little more and shake your ass against him. “Please, daddy? Want to be full.” It doesn’t take long for that same flush to travel back up his chest and cheeks, and his irises to get wider and darker again. “Full of Alpha cum, t-take all of you.” It’s with that that he wraps an arm around you entirely and pulls you up against his chest, placing his cock between your legs as he lifts your knees. “Ack- agh.” You mewl, and Fushiguro leans in for another kiss.

Briefer, but no less messy.

Shiu’s quick to press his own kisses to your throat, letting his stubble rub over your scent glands— with your pussy clenching in response. He rolls his hips against you a few times, then lines up with your ass as he groans. “Hold her legs.” You take a deep breath, and close your eyes as the cock presses to your ass, slick enough to push in with minimal effort. “Uhuh, there’s a good Omega.” As he does though, the space in your body is so full, you’re struggling to breathe. It aches enough to make you wilt and bloom all at once.

And then Fushiguro takes over on your pussy, and you cry out. Your hot cheeks are coated with tears, and your clit thumps with all the blood. It’s too much. You can feel both of them slide into you with painful precision, wetness spilling all over as you break out in cold sweats. But it- it feels so good. Fushiguro slips in a few inches at once, making your legs shake— before you dig your nails into his shoulder and your vision goes black. “Oh- fuck-f-fuck, cu-mming~ Agh- uhh nghn, oh god.”

The two men slide you down until you’re so full it feels like your insides are moved aside to make room. Like you’re about to tear in two, squished between two hot, solid bodies. Before Shiu groans into your hair, and lifts you up to slide you back down. And again, and again. Bounced on the two of them while slick drips out of you, and you’re creaming around them both. “That’s a- ugh- pretty girl.” Your orgasm barely pitters out before you’re cumming again, and you’re getting kissed on as you’re crying.

Not a single thought makes it though you. You’re clinging on for dear life. Only the heat between the three of you as you melt into a puddle.

You’re fucked until you can’t even feel your legs, let alone hear how you’re mewling and crying— like you might dissolve. But you do feel it when a tongue laves over your neck, and the cock pulsing inside you starts jack-hammering into you harder than before. Everything feels so- good- that you’re probably drawing blood into his shoulders, and the tongue becomes teeth. One second you’re floating, and the next the pressure grows too much— teeth break skin, and your pleasure becomes mind-numbing.

Fushiguro’s teeth sink into your shoulder deeper as he breathes you in, fucks his cock into your guts with the intent to stay. And the other man grunts, squeezing you tighter. But without thinking, he follows suit to bite down on the other side of your neck, letting you shake through yet another orgasm when the hot blood runs down your collar. You’re entirely spent, so there’s not one part of you that still feels the way Shiu speeds up inside your ass, before groaning out your name as he licks along the wound.

“Fuck, gonna- knot my girl. Fuck- ugh, ughuh— my baby, mine. Mine.”

It feels like you’re stuffed further than you ever thought possible, face dropping into Fushiguro’s chest when they slow down, and ropes of hot cum drip out of you despite the knots. Wasting it in a way that you’d savor, if you had any energy left. Instead you can only barely breathe, and rub your nose into your Alpha’s chest. It feels good. You wanna go again.

“Uh— my bad. I got carried away.” One of them sighs after a while, the rumbling of his voice rocking you to sleep.

“Yea…” The other responds, only the slightest bit guilty. “…Guess Suguru will have to learn how to share.” His large hand smoothes over your cheek, before stubble and soft lips kiss over the mark he’s made.

“But I don’t think I wanna share.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

#geto x reader #toji x reader #shiu kong x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto smut #toji smut #shiu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.a/b/o #tw.noncon #tw.size kink #tw.double penetration #🍯honey.pot

[the-hidden-pages]

Kinktober Day 1 - 'Love' Bites | Overstimulation - Astarion x Fem!Reader

Love bites | Overstimulation | Impact play

Coming out the gates strong with 3500+ words for this man. It has not been edited, I have work in the morning, I'm going to bed.

Summary: With the promise of taking you to a quiet little piece of nowhere to forget all the madness of the adventure, Astarion pulls out all the stops to ensure you forget everything, except the pleasure he gives you.

Warnings: NSFW, Blood, Vampire Kink, Overstimulation, Crying, Light Choking, Dirty Talk

You and Astarion had always had an arrangement.

To say you bonded quickly with your party would be an understatement - having the tadpole within your mind and surviving the same crash tends to form that immediate trauma bond. But you and the vampire had formed a deeper understanding of each other much sooner than the others.

That night, so early on in your adventure, when you awoke to the man perched over you, fangs bared and your throat exposed for the taking, things simply couldn’t go back to the status quo.

It fogged your mind the entirety of the next day, the proximity, the adrenaline, the pure, undiluted hunger.

You’ve allowed him to feed from you every night since.

You played it off as trust, at first. Trust in him, a want to have him fully strengthened for battle. Nothing but business.

But it didn’t take long for him to understand your underlying motivation, the reason you allowed yourself to feel drained, exhausted, and weak for each battle moving forward, perpetually distracted by the memory of his lips and teeth at your neck. The memory welcomed the fantasies with open arms, fantasies of his hands wandering as he drank, kissing your lips with your own blood on his own, his fangs sinking into your thighs, before wandering higher…

Still, you were never going to force it. 

So, you allowed him to continue to drink, both aware of the growing tension, both refusing to move further.

Until that changed.

When Astarion came to you, offering for you both to find a “little piece of nowhere”, somewhere to “forget all this madness”, you sure as hell weren’t about to decline.

A chance to get him out of your head was exactly what you needed to think clearly.

Night had long since fallen, as you sat pretending to read one of many absurd tomes Gale had collected throughout the journey. A life of adventuring doesn’t make for the most consistent sleep schedule, and as such awaiting for the entire party to call it a night was practically torment as you tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs.

But no amount of pretending to study the Oral Histories of Faerun could distract you from wondering what pleasures tonight would bring.

When finally, finally, Karlach decided to call it a night, you waited a few moments more before creeping off to where Astarion had told you to meet him.

Any other night it may have been eerie, creeping through the woods unarmed  as the moon rose high in the sky. But all you could feel was the anticipation growing, humming in every nerve of your body like someone had struck you with a Witch Bolt.

Your heart nearly stopped as movement caught your eye.

There, emerging from the trees, already shirtless, was the vampire.

You had seen him in various states of undress before - curing wounds of various weapons and spells will do that. But there was something different about it in this circumstance, seeing him perfectly unscathed, strong and confident from the weeks of draining your life from your veins, silver hair and pale skin hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight.

“There you are,” he spoke lowly, striding slowly towards you. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

While the words themselves made you blush, you couldn’t help comment.

“The moment you set eyes on me you had a knife to my throat.”

“Ah,” he sighed, walking slowly around you, bringing his fingers to lightly trail up your arm. “But if you remember, I did notice then and there what a darling neck you had, I just knew it would be heavenly.”

He closed the distance between you, and you could promptly feel his strong form cold against your back, a prominent bulge pressing into you, and his breath on your neck making you lightheaded.

His hand trailed down your neck to trace the marks he had been leaving nightly. “And I was right.”

Despite how little he had done, you had grown so wound up from the endless fantasies from his nights of feeding that you were already weak in the knees.

His left hand lightly began to caress your thigh, as his right takes to untying the strings of your loose shirt, his mouth never stopping.

“You’ve been so helpful these last few weeks darling, allowing me for the first time to indulge in the blood of a human, giving me strength at your expense. You’ve been so good for me too, holding back all those little sounds you’ve been wanting to make, pretending like you don’t get wet just at the thought of me drinking from you, like you don’t get soaked from the moment my lips touch your neck. Hmm?”

Your breathing was already heavy, your thighs already squeezing together in some attempt for stimulation - it was already too much. All you could do was nod, a breathy “yes” escaping you as your shirt is undone, falling to the forest floor.

His hands begin to explore, lightly tracing up your arms, down your stomach, across your collarbone. “And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you my love? To keep us alive, to keep us all going. You’ve been so helpful to all of us, to me, I think it’s time I take some weight off of those pretty little shoulders.”

Suddenly, forcefully, he spins you around, steadying you by grabbing your hips. You look into the red eyes that gaze at you intently, with an emotion that is so close to something like love, devotion, but feeling just slightly too forced, slightly too uncanny.

That gaze is a problem for another day, you determine, as he sinks to his knees and gazes up at you, untying your trousers.

After all, the love may not be real, but the lust in his eyes sure as hell is.

He makes slow work of the fabric, speaking up at you the entire time.

“Dearest, I intend to do exactly as I promised. I want to repay you for the kindness you’ve given me, the trust you’ve placed in me. Allow me to please you, to make you forget about everything, if only for a night. Will you allow me this?”

You nodded, mutely, as you stepped out of your pants.

He gazed up at you again, eyes drinking you in, darkening as they travel up your body, stopping at between your legs, your chest, your neck.

When his eyes met yours again, he stood up quickly, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a deep kiss.

You had thought about this moment too often.

What he would taste like, how his fangs would feel against your tongue, how his lips would feel against yours. He pulled you into him desperately, and the sensation of your bare chest against his made your head spin, gasping into the kiss as he took full control, kissing you with such a passion that you might have thought there was more to it than a simple need for release, repayment.

He pulled away all too soon, thumb caressing your lower lip as he gazed at you in that absurdly sultry way of his.

“Before I take your breath away,” he breathed out, pausing to kiss your cheek. “I need to know what you want from me darling.” Another pause, a kiss to the jaw now. “Tell me how to please you.” A kiss behind the ear. “Tell me how to make you scream.”

You were barely keeping it together, eyes already fluttering closed.

A sharp bite to the neck, not enough to bleed, but enough to make you gasp, brought you out of it. His red eyes gazed at you intently, awaiting your response.

“I want you to take control,” you speak, feeling as though you’re giving a confession. “I don’t want to think. I want you to drain me of my blood, of my thoughts. Make me cum, make me scream, make me feel so good it hurts, until I’m begging you to stop, Astarion.”

“Oh, darling,” he nearly growled, his hand caressing your cheek. “I'll do just that.”

He spun you again, once again catching you off guard. Within moments, you feel him press up against you again, this time the hardness of his cock being released from his pants, discarded far into the forest you assumed. 

“You mustn’t keep a sound from me, by the way,” he spoke lightly. “I’ll know if you do.”

You aren’t allowed much time to consider that as you feel his lips on your neck, pecking and lightly biting and sucking. His hands trail upwards to cup your breasts, slowly, softly, deeply massaging, as though he’s trying to feel every inch of your skin. His fingers lightly pinch and tug against your peaks, and he leaves soft bites on your neck, never enough to break the skin.

It had only been moments, but you’re whining, and you can feel your wetness dripping down your thigh.

“Astarion, please,” you breathe, hand coming up to lace in his hair in an attempt to force him deeper into your neck.

He just laughed. “Darling I’ve barely touched you and you’re begging. Allow me to take my time with you.”

His left hand stays at your breast as his right once again wanders downward, slowly reaching your inner thigh.

“I can smell it, you know,” he muttered lowly in your ear, and you almost squeak, flushed with embarrassment. “Every time you’re so wet you can barely think, stuck in your little fantasies as I drink from you. You do so well, hiding your wants from me, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always wanted to push it further, to let my hand wander between your pretty little legs and feel just how wet for me you are…”

As he takes a pause, his fingers reach your folds, lightly caressing up and down, circling your clit, and you both sigh.

“Astarion…”

“Hells, you want me so badly don’t you?”

“Please.”

“Oh, I’m not here to deny you, angel. I’ll give you everything you want…”

Without warning, two of his slender, delightfully long digits enter you, and you release a moan louder than you expected.

“Very good,” he praised, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, as he resumed his work on your neck. He continued to suck and bite, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises and marks that you would have to explain away tomorrow.

He growls again, biting a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw any blood, you notice. His fingers within you speed up, spreading in a way that has you choking out another moan.

“I can hear you thinking, darling. That’s not what we want now, is it?”

“No - fuck, there,” you moan deeper, head tilting back as his fingers reach a place in you that is forever out of your reach.

“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, focusing on that one spot. “Good girl, telling me what you want. Focus on your body, darling, not your thoughts. Feel me against you, feel me in you, feel how badly you need that release.”

“Astarion please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Bite me harder.”

“Oh, not yet my sweet. We have all night for that, and I would quite like to sample the nectar between your thighs before tasting your heavenly blood. But I’ve left such a wonderful piece of work on your neck, now everyone at the camp will know now more than ever that you’re mine.”

“Fuck,” you gasp out, feeling the waves of heat overcome you and your thighs begin to collapse, your release hitting hard and fast at his use of possessive language.

“Very good, darling,” he praised, holding you up as your vision spun. His fingers didn’t cease as you came, immediately riling you back up, moans spilling out of you louder than before. You hadn’t noticed when he had added a third finger, but you felt the stretch as he pushed in, the emptiness when he pulled out.

You needed more, and he was clearly eager to give it to you.

“Lie down, my darling,” he whispered in your ear. “Allow me to worship you further.”

You did so without hesitation, resting back on a relatively flat portion of the forest floor, spreading your legs as Astarion knelt down, bringing your legs up on to his shoulders and staring down hungrily at you.

Despite the ferocity in his eyes, he took his time, kissing from your ankle to your thigh on your left leg, and then your right. The moment you felt your frustration grow to a peak, he bit down, once again leaving marks but never breaking the skin, marking the soft flesh of your thigh.

He teased you for a few moments before the impatience struck him as well, and leaned forward further, licking a long stripe up your folds.

“Oh darling, and I thought your blood was heavenly,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he went to work.

Immediately your hands were in his hair, pulling and pushing in some attempt to regain any sort of sanity in this moment. His tongue worked wonders, knowing exactly how to work inside you before retreating, teasing at your clit, before the vicious cycle repeated. His hands clenched your thighs as though they were a life line, and the moans that left him traveled into the depths of your core.

It didn’t take long, you were already falling over the edge again, now shouting as the pleasure grew blinding.

“I could stay here forever,” you could barely hear him lament, mind fogged. You blinked blearily as you focused on his face that was now above yours, glistening with your release as he grinned ferally, hand briefly coming up to clench at your throat. “But I have more planned for you.”

Despite your exhaustion, you feel the warmth in your core grow, another release of slick as his cock presses up against your folds.

“May I, pet?”

All you can do is moan pathetically, something between “yes” and “please” falling out of you as you weakly nod.

“Darling, you’re a vision,” once again, he strokes your cheek, uncharacteristically loving for the cold vampire. “Completely fucked out, and we haven’t even arrived at the main course.”

With that, you feel him enter you, no resistance give how worked up you are.

You take a moment, joined, as he breathes heavily into your neck and you let out quiet moans, words completely failing you.

“Divine,” he breathes, returning to kiss your neck, the sensitivity of it making you clench around him immediately. “Oh, so divine, darling I could have you for eternity, such a better use of our time than fighting all of these tiresome battles.”

He began to pump in and out of you slowly, your mind spinning from the weight of him on top of you, the sensation of being fucked so deeply, overwhelmed by the afterglow of all that had happened.

And still his words didn’t cease.

“I could keep you forever, a precious little pet, tied to the bed to fuck whenever I wanted. Or perhaps the other way around, I would wait an eternity just for another chance to taste you, to please you. Whatever fantasy you wish darling, we can fulfill it tonight, I swear to you - fuck.”

He picks up the pace as you clench around him yet again, your release not even having a build up, but instead crashing against you like a tsunami. You feel the wetness seep down your thighs, coating where the pair of you connect.

“Ast-ar…” you can barely breathe, and he laughs almost maniacally.

“Very good, darling, just like that. Give in to me. You don’t need a single thought in that head now, focus only on me and let go. You can cum again, you can, for me.”

“Can’t - I can’t…”

“Oh, you can and you will, if you want me to drink from you tonight,” he muttered darkly, and you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes.

“Astarion.”

“You have to cum again, to get what you want. Just one more time, my darling. One more and you’ll please me so well. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You muster up the last of the strength you have, words falling from you without control. 

“Yes, fuck, yes please, Astarion, please I want to come, I want you to bite me, I need to be yours, I need you ~”

It was almost as though your last orgasm hadn’t ended, with how quickly this one had began. An endless torrent that had the tears breaking, pouring down your face and into the dirt. You nearly choked out a scream, clenching around him so tightly that you feel Astarion tense, cursing wildly as you feel a warmth flood you.

You take a moment, trying with all your might to remember how to breathe, mouth gaping, expecting Astarion to move from you any moment.

Instead you shriek as he thrusts again, hand once again curled around your neck, stopping any chance you had at catching your breath.

“We aren’t done,” he growled, your own slick and his cum leaking out of you as he continued to fuck you, harder now, less restrained that before, nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving you. “We are so far from done, my love. You’re mine, you’re mine.”

Finally, what you had been begging for all night came to pass, and his fangs sunk deep into that claimed spot of your neck. You felt the familiar warmth and euphoria as your blood drained into his hungry mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo and hips moving at an inhumane pace.

And he was right.

You were his, blood and body and mind, it was all his. He had consumed every inch of you.

It was incredible, it was numbing, all you could think about was Astarion. Every molecule of you was on fire, and screamed to be connected to him, to never leave this moment, to stay in an eternity of this torment, but after four orgasms and on the verge of a fifth, with the ecstasy of his fangs in your neck, you simply couldn’t continue.

“Too much,” you manage to croak out, tears streaming down your cheeks and your entire body screaming. Your hands grip the vampire's arms tightly when he doesn’t immediately stop, nails biting into his skin. “Too much, stop!”

Immediately the fangs retract and he’s gently pulling out of you, red eyes wide with a hint of a rare expression on his face.

Fear.

“Darling I’m so sorry, did I take too much? I felt you going limp but, hells you’re so delicious I must have been lost in it-”

You shook your head quickly, placing a hand on his chest as you tried to collect your thoughts, tears still streaming.

“No, no, no,” you breathe out, still gasping. “Not the blood, you’re alright. It was too much, I really can’t cum again, it's too much. Too much good, I promise.”

The fear melted away to a more familiar expression, a smug smirk. 

“Oh darling,” he purred, hand trailing up and down your inner thigh in a soothing but teasing manner. “I don’t know about that, you can still manage full sentences. Clearly too much brain power left…and I could go all night.”

“Astarion.”

A rare, genuine chuckle left the man as he began softly stroking your arm and playing with your hair, easing you down from your intense high.

When your breathing leveled out, he began to stand up, and you nearly whined.

Sensing your distress, he waved lightly. “I’ll be but a moment.”

He sauntered away, and you laid back, taking the moment to look up at the stars, basking in the glow of the orgasms and the moon.

He really had done his job, you had to admit to yourself. You were struggling to form a coherent thought.

When he returned, he had clothed himself, and had a small cloth in his hand. Striding over to you he gently knelt down yet again, running it over the blood stains on your neck, the mess between your thighs.

You stared at him, and he caught your look of surprise.

“What?” he asked, an affronted tone. “I know how to treat my lovers, darling.”

“Hmm,” you chuckle, closing your eyes. “Just a softie, I knew it.”

“Hardly,” he huffed, chucking the cloth off to who knows where and pulling you up against his chest. 

He began to play with your fingers, lightly tracing the veins in your hands and up your arms. The pair of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, no words passing between you, but a silent understanding growing.

“We ought to go back to the camp,” Astarion eventually broke the peace, smirking at your disappointed expression. His arms encircled you once again, and you tried not to dwell on how good it felt. “Despite your rather loud vocals, I believe the others didn’t hear us, and unless you’d like to explain to them why you aren’t walking properly tomorrow…”

You snort, pushing him off of you. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, my darling.”

One thing was certain, you noted as you returned to your bedroll, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon. 

You’ll need extra healing from Shadowheart in the morning.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

#fawktober2023 #kinktober2023 #x reader smut #x reader #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

[freedomfireflies]

Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it. 

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine. 

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door. 

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions. 

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence. 

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours  and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say. 

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?” 

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over. 

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out. 

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment. 

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh. 

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.” 

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

 He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit. 

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one. 

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy. 

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle. 

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment. 

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon. 

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up. 

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow. 

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.” 

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat. 

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?” 

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop. 

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent. 

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot. 

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave. 

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open. 

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

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[napsaps-archive]

today's the day i watch the first few crunchcraft vods i WILL watch all the ones i missed and i WILL remain caught up to date with everything and i will NOT let it impact my overall productivity ← affirmations

#i am just so behind on literally everything in my life rn but i will have these vods playing in the background as much as possible like #i AM getting through all of them one way or another 😭😭 #this is fucked because like i haven't been watching the yard like i've seen the newer ones but i'm still on like ep 5 or something #it's ok . one day i will be fully caught up on all my interests and it'll be wonderful

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

[hairmetal666]

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #oneshot #angst #friends to lovers #angst with a happy ending #idiots in love #mutual pining #famous eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #pathetic gay yearning #fluff #the one that got away #second chances #getting together

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

Hi can we please have fluff w Aventurine where reader and him reunite after 2. 1 and just fucking elope start a new life etc? Please I need it.

God yes. This is what we all need after 2.1. I'm aware he is in a coma-like state technically now but for the sake of fluff and this headcanon he is awake from that coma and is now reuniting with you. CW: Spoilers for 2.1 and Aventurines actual name, starts angsty but then turns fluffy, Gn reader, pre established relationship hurt/comfort

I am still accepting requests (especially for aven) btw so if you wanna see something send it in!

Back in your arms

You had lost track of how long it was since Aventurine left for his mission in Penacony. Has it been 2 months? No, probably more. It had been months since you last had been able to make contact with him. Your messages no longer went through, unable to be sent.

Looking at your textlog and scrolling up, you came across the last message he had sent you. It had come in while you were asleep, and it simply read “I love you”.

Waking up to that message would have been a sweet message for most people, but for you it had made you immensely worried.

 Aventurine was never someone who professed his love openly, so such messages were quite rare. Receiving such a message, especially unprompted, made you send him a barricade of texts, none of which went through and even now months later none were able to be sent.

If you were honest you were starting to lose hope of ever seeing him again, who knows what happened in Penacony after all? He could be…dead for all you knew, you had no way to verify whether that was true or not after all. 

You tried continuing your life on as you would normally, what else could you do? It was hard though, everyday you missed him more and more. Sometimes you imagined his face in a crowd somewhere but whenever you would take a closer look he would vanish.

Sighing you closed your phone and looked around your apartment, it felt so liveless ever since Aventurine was gone. Tears were falling down your eyes as you wondered how much longer you had to live with the uncertainty of where he was and if he was even alive.

Exhaustion was taking over as you began falling asleep. A common occurrence nowadays, since at night you were restless, unable to fall asleep as you worried. Just as you were beginning to fully doze off, you heard the door to your apartment open, immediately waking up.

No one but you and Aventurine had the key, and with him being absent panic coursed through you thinking someone was breaking and entering. You grabbed the nearest heavy thing to defend yourself with.

“For fucks sake…” You muttered as you made your way to where the noises were coming from. Cursing every entity out there for piling even more shit onto you as if your significant other being possibly dead wasn’t enough.

Readying your weapon (probably a heavy book) you stepped foot into the room where the noise was coming from ready to attack and hit the intruder. But once you saw who it was that was in your appartment, you dropped your makeshift weapon, a sob escaping your mouth.

Before you stood Aventurine, alive and breathing. You rubbed your eyes, making sure that this wasn’t your mind playing a cruel trick on you again. Aventurine watched you with a smirk on his, albeit very exhausted looking, face and his eyes held a new found softness you had never seen before.

You fell into his arms immediately, holding him tightly against your body, feeling his warmth. Desperately you grabbed at his clothes as you held on to him, scared this was all just a dream and you would wake up all alone once again. Tears were falling from your eyes, unable to hold them back, the relief washing over you making you let out all of your emotions.

“Wow you missed me that much?” He asked, in his usual teasing tone. Though there was something in his voice that usually wasn’t there. Desperation and a bit of fear. Was he afraid you wouldn’t have missed him? Or was there a deeper reason for it?

Moving away from the hug you grabbed his face in your hands, the tears still falling from your eyes as you took a good look at him. His face had fallen in, and he seemed exhausted. But there was also something in his eyes, his beautiful eyes you were so sure you would never see again, that you couldn’t recognize, having never seen it on him before.

Before you spoke your first words to him, you pulled his face closer and gently kissed him. The feeling of his lips on yours felt like you were floating in heaven. They may have been more chapped than usual, but fuck was it nice to feel him again.  Breaking the kiss you finally were able to muster up your first words to him.

“Fuck…I was so worried about you…I…When my messages stopped being able to sent I was…so sure you…Please…never worry me like that again Aventurine…”

You leaned your forehead against his, your words jumbled together from the adrenaline coursing through you.

He took in a deep breath, and held it for a moment before letting it out. A gesture you saw in many people before they needed to say something important and heavy, but one you never saw in your lover.

“...Kakavasha…” His voice seemed unsure and meek as he spoke. 

You, of course, had no idea what he was saying, so you looked into his eyes confused.

“Wha-”

“Kakavasha…it is…my given name. The one my mother gave me” He inhaled deeply before he continued.

“It is a long story but the short version is…I am no longer affiliated with the IPC, they probably think I died or something. So I no longer go by Aventurine, and…with how close we are and how much you mean to me. I felt like it was appropriate for you to know my true name...”

His eyes refused to look at you, flickering about unsurely as he spoke. Though he tried to sound confident, his voice wavered, scared that you would not accept him for who he truly was and reject his true self.

You looked at him gently and with all the love you had for him, gently pulling him close again and kissing his nose.

“Well then…It is nice to meet you Kakavasha…” You smiled brightly at him, showing him you accepted him as he was.

He felt relief course through his body and could not help himself but pull you into a passionate kiss. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive. As if he would die without you.

Breaking the kiss he whispered “Marry me.” It wasn’t a question but a request. One that you were too stunned to answer to, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I mean it. Let’s get married, run away from everything and start a new life just you and me.”

His eyes were pleading with you to agree. He knew that he wanted to start over, but he knew he needed you with him.

“...yes!!” You once again fell into his arms and kissed him. The two of you holding each other so closely it was as if you were one.

Kakavasha knew that he would need to tell you everything that happened in Penacony at one point, even the part where he tried to end his life. But he knew that if he explained everything to you, you would still stay by his side and be with him. 

You were his family after all.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail spoilers #hsr spoilers #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #honkai aventurine #kakavasha #aventurine fluff #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x you #hsr x you #hsr 2.1