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postmortemnivis · 2 months

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no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simons a loverboy at heart #simon is not ghost

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

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retired pornstar ghost has always been a talker. his voice is deep— a low rumble like distant thunder. always gets anyone that's under him going.

his voice to his own ears sounds plain, like any other man, really; he doesn't see the appeal. but what he does find appealing are the noises that come from you, his cute co-star when he talks to you, lips dripping with honey.

ghost loves when you clamp down on his cock, squeezing him like a vice when his wicked words sink into your ears. "tight bloody cunt would drive any man wild, love. how lucky i am that it's me getting to fuck you."

"look at you under me," he stills the bucking of your hips with one hand, skin dimpling where his fingers dig into you, "at my mercy, taking my desire."

"doing so well," he coos.

ghost lets out a sharp exhale through his teeth when your walls begin to flutter around him. "so quick to come, and i haven't even touched," he moves his hand down to your mons, thumb finding your swollen pearl, "here."

the circles he draws there are tight, precise, destructive. he brutally wrenches your orgasm from you, and in your blinding ecstasy, you dig your nails into the side of his proportionately wider waist.

his hips undulate as he fucks you through it while still fucking talking.

"kitty's got claws, doesn't she? i love a little—" but the words that were on his tongue crumbled into ash. you'd dragged your nails on his skin in mild annoyance, because how dare he sound so untaxed even though you're still twitching from the aftershocks under him—

the silence spoke volumes; he'd even stopped moving. you did it again, and this time he had whimpered— a pathetic little noise that came from the back of his throat.

delicious.

you wonder. this time, your nails score red lines down the front of his chest, grazing a little too close to his nipple and he groaned. loud.

delectable, like thick, molten chocolate.

now it's your turn to do the talking. "the mighty ghost, rendered speechless. have i performed a miracle?"

peering down at you, his eyes hold a deeper shade than usual. you continue to claw at him, this time targeting his unmistakably sensitive nipple. the sight of his eyes rolling back in sheer bliss ignites a fire within you.

"my, oh my," the smug grin on your face perfectly matches your tone. "tell me what you need, ghost. you need me to mark you up? want to see me on you come morning?"

his growl is animalistic, a shiver licks up your spine. he quickly bends you in half, feet dangling helplessly on his brawny shoulders.

"bite."

it's easy to follow his edict when he hits so deeply in this angle that the pain and pleasure blur into one overwhelming sensation. your teeth sink into the thick meat of his barrel chest, and he abruptly stills, a guttural snarl escaping his lips.

he doesn't speak a word until after; when his seed drips from your glistening slit and sweat-slick skin begins to cool down.

"fuckin' hell, love."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #ghost call of duty

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helluvapoison · 3 months

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jealousy, jealousy

˚✧₊⁎ The Vees ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: violence, off page murdah, suggestive themes, possessive behavior

18+ only

watch out for red flags in real life and read at your own discretion ♡

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• The least jealous of the three, but that doesn’t say much, does it?

• Running an enterprise goes hand in hand with being an Overlord. Vox prides himself on being everywhere at once but he knows his limits. If wants to keep this cushy life he built, and you safe, he can’t spread himself too thin. That means occasionally cutting back on distractions

• So go out, have your fun— playtoys even! He’s not worried. Vox has literal eyes on you 24/7, access to your phone and all its contents, your lifeline is constantly synced to his peripherals. Really! He’s not worried!

• The problem arises when Vox feels threatened or undermined. If he’s in the same room, no one should even be looking at you! And if some sorry soul dared to touch you!? That’d be the last time they have hands

• “I’ve been looking for you!” He says from behind as his claws creep around your shoulders. He’ll ignore the Sinner, bringing your attention to him as security drags them away. You don’t need to know how jealous he can get

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Sharing, shockingly, is not in her vocabulary! Not outfits, not credit, not the spotlight and fucking especially not you

• You’re her favorite project, she so lovingly calls you, which is a giant compliment. She dresses you every day so if— for some hellish reason— you left her side, she knows she has a visual claim on you. Vel quickly snaps and posts a pic of the two of you together before you go, just to remind her audience the fact you’re spoken for! Don’t you feel safe? And stylish?

• Unlike her partners, Velvette can multitask so having you around the studio can be an everyday treat! Unfortunately she has to split her focus, occasionally crashing the conversation to a stop so she can snap at someone

• Her eyes are sharp, they pick up on every little detail and seldom miss a thing. No one in her workshop would even think about approaching you, unless Vel asked, so it was all too easy to spot that new-nobody-model break his neck to check you out

• You’ve seen Velvette reduce even the oldest, most thick skinned to a puddle of piss in the street with her words. She doesn’t give anyone the chance to touch what’s hers. She’s shameless and loud, stopping the inappropriate behavior from across the room if she has to, “Oy! You! You’re fuckin’ fired, get the fuck out of here ‘fore I set you on fire!”

• As they run for the elevator, she debates if the clothes they’re wearing are worth keeping or not. With a glowing finger she swipes them off the model anyways, stripping them of her brand… and their dignity

• Velvette marks the occasion with a kiss to your cheek, stained with black lipstick, and another posted picture with a clever caption

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Val invented jealousy

• He handles it as well as everyone expects

• It’s not limited to you, either! Business partners, employees, friends (if he has any left), play things, he’ll be up and arms about anything that belongs to him. There’s only one way to cut the cord tethered to him, and he’s always the one to decide how and when

• Val may have a lot of toys but you’re not one of them. You’re special— precious, actually!

• He has tabs on you at all times. Tracker in your phone, jewelry with his name on it, a bodyguard if he’s feeling particularly paranoid that day!

• Val also loves showing you off. Love bites are his favorite mark of ownership, he’ll show off wherever is most recent so be prepared to swat his hands away. Everyone can look, but only he can touch. He has four hands, one of them is on you at all times in public

• No one should manage to get in spitting distance of you— but if somehow they did and had the gall to talk to you… he’ll break their nose on the spot. He’d make quicker work with a gun, but then he’d get blood on you and he doesn’t want that

• “You’re so fuckin’ hot tonight, baby, look how clumsy you’ve made this idiot!” Val cackles, poorly masking his rage, “Seriously, I think you’re trying to get me riled up.” You open your mouth to deny it but he laughs again, carefully pulling you closer with both pairs of arms, “I’m only teasing!”

• Looming over you, Val shoots said idiot a murderous glare that gives them a five second head start. He’s yet to lose this game of chase. He always returns, clean as a crappy soap ad, to shower you in gifts in lieu of an apology for disappearing

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #the vees #the vees x reader #vox headcanons #vox imagine #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #velvette headanons #velvette imagine #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino imagine #they’re all messy but i love them #except val he knows what he did

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leascorner · 3 months

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b.b. | With child

Summary: He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader

Warnings: angst ('cause I can't write anything else), alluding to sex (no description whatsoever), discussions around pregnancy, pregnancy, mention of alcohol.

Words Count: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Had this in the work for the longest time. I was actually thinking to publish it for his season (#4 I hope!). But we got new stills of Season 3 and it's nearly Valentine's Day so... Enjoy!

“Are you-” you asked when you noticed your sister-in-law had let her glass of wine and her plate untouched.

Your words stayed lost on your tongue, yet Daphne, sat in front of Benedict and next to you, knew exactly what you were about and nodded slightly, tears in her eyes. You let out a small cry of excitement and leant in to hug her. While you wore the most delighted expression, Benedict’s heart sunk a little at the news.

His sister was with child. Again. She was the second women of his family to be expecting this year, while he had yet an exciting news to share himself.

You both had wed a little over than a year and a half ago now and were yet to be blessed with a child. You were doing your best, of course, but none your efforts had been fruitful so far. Benedict did not mind; he had waited his whole life to meet you, he definitely could wait a little bit longer.

He did not mind, or so he thought…

Tonight, he thought life was particularly unfair to him. Every pregnancy announcement was only nourishing this harrowing feeling in his chest. All he could feel was his siblings’ bliss and it made him sick to the stomach. Yes, he was sick with jealousy - and ultimately selfish. He just couldn’t wait to feel your belly growing, to hold your children, to watch them playing around with their cousins, for them to grow older and become adults themselves. Just this simple thought made his very own heart felt extremely heavy.

Politely and quietly, he raised his glass wishing his sister a healthy pregnancy, before drinking away his sorrow.

The ride home that night was particularly quiet.

Silence had never been a thing between the two of you. Benedict was usually the most talkative, telling you about his days, about whatever painting he was going to paint, about that book he had been reading. You would listen, looking back at him with your big bright eyes and a soft smile onto your lips. Other times, he would watch you pacing back and forth in his study while passionately debating about politics. He would be drawing imaginary circles on your soft skin as you were lying in bed, you telling him about another one of your days chaperoning one of his sisters. He would listen to your laugh at one of his jokes. Even your fights would be followed by soft apologies, quiet words, whimpers, and love.

On the contrary, that night, the air was thick with something he couldn’t quite describe, and the coach was wrapped up in dark clouds, a genuine storm in the awakening. Sat on the opposite side, you were looking through the window, your face only light up by the few shines of the full moon. Benedict was so focused on his own thought that he didn’t realize you hadn’t had a word for the rest of the night.

He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours. It only made him angrier at the entire world. Why couldn’t they let you live this as well?

He would have liked to discuss this with you - his regrets, his hope - but he was too afraid you would realize what a failure he was. How disappointed with him you were. How you would hate him for not being able to offer you this. So, he sat back in his seat and watched out of his own window.

When the coach stopped in front of your residence, Benedict got out first, offering his hand to help you getting down the small step like he always did. You smiled at him, thanking him politely, and let go of his hand as soon as your two feet were on the ground. It didn’t mean anything, he tried to reassure himself, you needed both of your hands to grab the tissue of your dress to prevent the hem from getting wet and dirty. Yet, he couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest.

Silently, he followed you inside, hat in his hands, jaw locked. You were welcomed as usual by your housemaid, who got both of your coats and stayed there, in the uncomfortable silence, arms full, waiting for one of you to dismiss her. As you took off your gloves and didn’t dare look at Benedict, he nodded sharply to let her know she could go and watched her somehow disappear in an instant.

Suddenly, it was only the two of you again and it was all too much for him. He couldn’t breathe properly; his chest being crushed by the invisible weight of his sorrow. He couldn’t bare staying with you one more second. He needed to get out of here.

“Good night,” he said firmly, before walking to his study.

Would he have looked back he would have seen you watching him disappear in the corridor. You, all alone in the middle of the hall, arms dangling. He would have seen the frown on your face and the hurt in your eyes. Would he have looked back he would have run back to your side. Instead, he did none of that. He continued marching, head up high, trying to escape his own misery.

You sighed before turning in the opposite direction and to your shared bedroom.

Benedict went to bed less than an hour after you.

He had been haunted by guilt as soon as he had reached his study, sadness evaporating once he had stepped inside the room. Instead of turning back and chasing after you, he had tried to put his head in order. He then had tried painting whatever he was feeling, but he could only stay in front of his white canvas, terrified of laying his brush on the cotton. He had tried writing it, but he couldn’t concentrate enough; his thoughts always drifting to you, alone in your bedroom. He had then settled on having a drink to wait long enough for you to fall asleep before he could go to bed - his other option would have been to sleep in his study if he got too drunk, which he did not.

He had thought long about the whole situation. It wasn’t like you were not trying. Sometimes, even with doing the right things, it didn’t happen. He would need to accept this. And he couldn’t continue being a terrible husband. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anybody’s fault actually. What he knew more than anything though was that he loved you. Whatever would happen, he could not afford to lose you.

He had decided he would come clean tomorrow, but for now, he only wanted to sleep with you by his side.

In the dark of your room, Benedict undressed and lied besides you as silently as possible.

All he could hear was your uneven breathing; whatever dream you were having did not seem to be pleasant. He reached out to your arm, hoping that you could feel his presence through his touch and know he would always be there for you.

It wasn’t until your body was rocked by a hiccup that he understood that you were not having a bad dream, you were crying.

“Y/N?” he asked, lying on his side to face your back.

“I am so sorry,” your voice was only a whisper.

He gently made you roll on your side. Even in the dark, his right hand was able to find your face and his thumb to rub the tears away. Before he could ask what was wrong, you spoke:

“I am so-” You chocked on – yet – another sob and it took you a couple of seconds to even out your breathing so you could speak properly: “So sorry- for not being able to get you- get you what you ever wanted.”

“My love,” he sighed, grabbing the back of your neck to bring you closer. Instinctively, you hide your face in his chest, and he started stroking your hair to try and calm you. “My love, do not ever feel guilty on this.”

“I have tried every tea, every method that is supposed to help,” you cried some more.

It broke his heart to realize the burden on your heart - of course, if he was feeling it, you would have too. He finally understood how selfish he had been, how centred on his own pain he was and so oblivious to yours. It had never been a subject between the two of you, but it was slowly crushing you both.

“My love, this is not your fault.”

“You don’t see the pity in their eyes. You don’t hear them whisper.” You sniffled against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. “We are even blessed Lady Whistletown has not written about us.” He heard the frustration in your voice and the ton of it made him understand how you had tried to suppress the guilt but failed. It pained him that out of all of this, it was you who were the one being charged guilty by everyone - you included. As if you couldn’t imagine it being his own fault. As if you couldn’t imagine it being anyone’s fault but yours.

“Perhaps, I-” he stopped, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “I drink loads of Colin’s stupid tea; I paint with all sorts of chemicals substance. Perhaps, I can’t-”

“Ben, of course, no!”

“Perhaps we won’t ever-” he confessed, but he couldn’t even say it out loud. It was all too much.

You moved against him, and he felt both of your hands grabbing his face, your forehead resting again his. He felt your hot breath against his skin, and he hugged you tighter, crushing your bones, making sure you were close.

He had you, he kept repeating himself. It was all that mattered. Of course, it was a dear wish of his to see mini versions of yourselves running around, but not at all costs. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice what you both had, right here, right now.

“We are both healthy, it is more than all I could ever wish for.”

“Will this ever be enough for you, though?” you asked so quietly he nearly did not hear you.

Benedict frowned. Was it really what you thought? That he would leave you? That your own self was not enough for him? He had been an even more terrible husband he had thought to lead you thinking this. He had failed you on so many levels.

“I was so absorbed by my own desire of having my own family,” he whispered back like he was telling you a secret, “I never asked if you also desire to have children of your own.”

“Ben, of course, I want your children!”

Benedict wanted to express how grateful he was to have you in his life, but no words came to his mind at that moment. He only reached out to your lips, trying to express how much he loved you.

If he could not tell you, he could still show you…

Hours later, while you were lying in bed, your head on Benedict’s chest, his left hand drawing invisible love words on your back and the other holding you close, he thought that there was nothing else he would like to do than stay with you, like this, forever.

“We should just take some time away from here.”

“What do you mean? The season only began-”

“To hell with worldliness. Some time away, just the two of us.” The sun was slowly peeking through the blinds, its yellow light was painting on your naked skin a glowy spectrum. “I heard South of France is particularly beautiful, this time of the year.”

Your chin on his chest, you looked back at him, eyes bright. He was looking at you the same way you had catch him do a million time: a soft smile on his lips, his eyes filled of this spark, shinning only for you. You didn’t care how beautiful France would be, he was the most beautiful view you had ever laid eyes on.

His hand brushed some hair out of your face, and you grabbed it to kiss his knuckles.

“France, it is then.”

Little did you know, you would be coming back home a few months later, bearing your own little miracle.

One of the many to come.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #lea's writing #benedict bridgerton fanfiction

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dilfl0v3rss · 8 months

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This but it’s toji🤭🤭 preferably with a bit of plot <3

i never wrote for toji before so i hope you like it😩

“i’m not fuckin wit you no more toji, you gotta go!” you spit. your arms crossed over your chest as you looked down at the large man on the couch. his scarred lips twitched into a smirk, his hands itching to move towards your waist but he kept them laid in their position on the top of the couch. your words didn’t phase the man at all, his eyes low and bored as he just ignored what you said a dug for his phone in his pocket. “don’t start wit me, i told you a million times ion know that girl. she came up t’me askin about a number and i told her no. you only mad cause i was being polite and smiled at her” his smirk only grew as he watched his words crawl under your skin, your jaw tightening as you tried your best not to attack this man.

“since you like t’smile so much go smile at shiu’s house.” his green eyes saddened at the sight of your sad ones, his hands moving instantly to pull you into his lap. toji brought his lips to your neck, lightly kissing and occasionally sucking the sensitive skin before whispering in your ear. “you really mad at me mama?” he said softly, making your eyes instantly go towards the ceiling. you avoided his gaze as you lightly nodded your head. toji couldn’t help but get a little turned on at how possessive you were. never in all his years of living did he think he’d end up with a women that would get so upset just from him smiling at another woman. the whole situation just made him incredibly horny and you felt it under you. “let me fix it”

“this is your dick so stop running from it” toji grunted, his hand snatching you back onto his dick by the back of your neck. you were tore up, your panties ripped and discarded somewhere in the room, your breasts bouncing under you as your bra was pulled down to the middle of your stomach, and your sheets completely soaked from the three other orgasms snatched from you. you had tried to tap out at least five times, but your man wasn’t having it. his dick just bullying it’s way even deeper into you as he tried to atone for his sins.

“toji ba-baby please just one break” you whined, trying once again to drag yourself away from his brutal pounding, but it was no use. toji just sighed, pulling out before flipping you over on your back. “nuh uh, i wasn’t bein a good boy so i gotta fix it before you leave me” he said, a shit eating grin on his face as he lifted your leg over his shoulder. he sucked and licked at the white paint of your toes as he pushed your other leg to your chest. you were completely stretched out, his thick dick making a bulge appear in your stomach as you screamed and cried into the air of the room.

you felt him everywhere all at once. you took in the sight of him. his low, sexy eyes staring down at you as he let his tongue swirl in between your toes. his dick reaching the deepest parts of you as he squeezed at the fatty flesh of your thigh. toji was a very handsome man and it was almost impossible for women and sometimes even men to not want to get at him when he’s seen in public, but no matter who came his way he always made sure to let it be known he was with you. toji noticed that you were deep into your mind right now, his scarred lip twitching into a smirk as he pushed his dick deeper inside of you, reaching so deep your vision began to whiten as you felt another orgasm begin to approach. “you still mad at me mama?” he said, sliding his hand from your thigh up to your neck before giving it a light squeeze.

“still mad at daddy for smiling at that girl?” toji knew you weren’t going to be able to answer, his dick punching your insides in a way that made your toes curl next to his face, but that didn’t stop him from leaving a couple light slaps to your cheek. “y’hear me ma? i know you can’t talk, but can you nod f’me?” you tried your best to follow the sound of his voice, your conscious fighting with your body as you gave him a slow nod. toji chuckled at the far away look in your watery eyes, his hand moving towards your breasts before giving them some attention. “good girl, you gonna make a mess on me?” he asked moving your leg from his shoulder before leaning down closer to your face. you lightly nodded again, back arching off the bed as you felt the tight coil in your stomach begin to snap.

toji just smiled, watching the entire scene unfold as you released all over him and the bed under you. “that’s good princess, doin real good f’me” he groaned, his release right behind yours. he gave you a couple more deep strokes before stopping, shooting his thick ropes deep inside you while leaving sloppy wet kisses all over your neck.

“i only have eyes for you pretty girl, don’t forget that”

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ddejavvu · 8 months

Note

Hiii! Could you write a Spencer Reid x fem reader who are dating & she’s super drunk, he needs to take care of her and she’s all “no I have a boyfriend who I love so much” and goes on a ramble about Spencer, not releasing she’s talking to him & he’s all heart eyes and giggly at her whilst trying to take care of her? Lots of fluff? Thank you!

The minute Spencer tries taking your hand to help you down from the booth you're squeezed into, you push his hand away, "No."

"No," You repeat, shaking your head with all the coordination of a baby deer, "Nooo sir. I am not going to be partaking in anything with you, because I have a boyfriend," You announce, your voice spanning over the entire table, even reaching Rossi who's at the head, "And I love him, and you're- just- fuck off."

Spencer's mouth falls open incredulously at your expletive, though a laugh escapes it rather than one of his own. "Oh, really? You've got a boyfriend?"

"Mhm." You nod proudly, settling back into your seat and burrowing away from his waiting hands into Emily's side, "He's tall, and he has a gun, so don't-" You choke on what Spencer presumes is a hiccup, but could very well be a belch, "Don't mess with me."

"You tell'im," Emily laughs, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and rubbing the chilly skin beneath the cutoff of your sleeves, "Do you want me to call Spencer for you, sweetheart? Have him come pick you up?"

"Yeah," You nod easily, your eyes set greedily on your friend's drink now that yours have been downed, "Can you tell him to bring me a blanket, too? I'm cold."

Unbeknownst to you, Penelope herds Spencer away to the edge of the patio your team is seated on, and there's a lingering smile on his face as he listens to what she whispers in his ear.

"I have a blanket in my car," She tells him, "It might have some cat hair on it, but you can totally take it! Go get it, and you can come back like we called you."

"Okay," Spencer's eager to take Penelope's keys from her when she shoves them into Spencer's hands, "Thanks, Garcia. Just make sure she doesn't drink any more, okay?"

A quick glance back at your table reveals Emily holding her glass to your lips, helping you tilt it backwards to dump the concoction down your throat.

"Uh- any more than that." Spencer clarifies. Penelope nods, rushing off to make sure you don't find Rossi's scotch.

Spencer returns barely two minutes later, discreetly dumping Penelope's keys back into her purse. Hotch and Morgan share a knowing smirk when Spencer pats you on the shoulder, and JJ pinches your side from across Emily to get you to notice the man standing beside you.

"Hi angel," Spencer croons, and your face lights up, shining brighter than the fairy lights strung above you, "Emily called me, she said you wanted me to come get you?"

"Spencer!" You cheer, and Emily shares her strength with you to hoist you into his arms where you cling to him like a koala bear, "Spence, you're here! There was this guy, and he tried holding my hand, and-"

"Oh, no," Spencer scrunches his nose, unable to stop himself from laughing when you take it as an invitation to smear yours against his own, "Not a guy! Are you okay, angel?"

"Mhm," You hum, tucking your face into his shoulder, "You're here now, Spence. And you brought a blanket, just like I asked."

"Of course I did," He beams, wrapping his arm tightly around your back as you settle over him like dead weight, "Uh- guys, can we get a bill?"

"Just go," Rossi waves him off, patting his pocket where you all know his rather thick wallet lies, "Take her home now, so that she can't run up my card with any more drinks, and I'll pay for the ones she already had."

"Thanks Rossi," Spencer grins awkwardly at him, flashing the man a strained thumbs-up before he has to use that hand to support the backs of your thighs once more, "Okay, honey, ready to go?"

You don't answer, and Derek leans sideways to peek at you.

"She's out," He snickers, "Pretty boy, make sure she's still breathing when you get home, alright?"

"Got it," Spencer chuckles breathily, "Okay, uh- bye guys."

There's a chorus of send-offs, and Hotch tilts his glass at Reid with an amused twinkle in his dark eyes, "Make sure you're both on time Monday. Hangovers don't excuse you from duty."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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abbyshands · 3 months

Text

jackson!abby (& cockwarming :3)

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader

warnings; tw superrr old draft (not really but i don’t like it LOL), cockwarming (obv), use of a strap-on (referred to as abby’s cock) abby’s a tease, use of princess/sweet girl/baby, daddy kink, fondling, nipple play, kissing, lmk if i missed smt <3

P.S.; please look at the below links to learn of ways that you can help the people in gaza, and how you can learn more about this ongoing issue overall. please don't stay in the dark about this: like each post, reblog them, etc. if you like my work, then i am asking you to take the side that i'm on. free 🇵🇸

LINKS: ways you can help | 🇵🇸 masterpost | MORE ways you can help | places to boycott, and families you can help escape | learn more

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

“shhh, shhh, baby, c’mere. i’ve got you,” abby whispers to you, cock deep inside your cunt.

you had always gotten cold easily, but this time was different. jackson was fucking merciless when it came to the chill. a blizzard was going out there, and no matter how much you bundled up, fire going and sleeping bag around you, you just couldn’t get warm.

so who should you ask to help you but her?

you were way too needy to go very long without abby’s strap-on, and that was precisely why she had carried it along to jackson in the first place. she had seen you shivering, sleepless as you did your best to get to bed, and begging to get warmer.

and she had just the thing.

that’s how you ended up faced away from abby, her arms wrapped around your waist as she cockwarmed you from the back.

you let out a small whimper as abby pulled you closer, the silicone of the dildo moving around inside you. “f- a- abs,” you couldn’t help but whine.

abby’s arm was wrapped around your waist as she cuddled you close to her body. “hush, sweet girl. don’t wanna wake anyone, now, do we?” she whispered, chuckling lowly into your ear.

“n- no, daddy,” you huffed out as she yanked you even closer to her, and if there was one thing that was warm by now, it was your fucking face.

“that’s a good girl,” abby cooed into your ear as she jerked her hips on “accident,” which damn well make you squirm as abby slowly put her hand up your shirt. “am i filling you up well enough, princess?”

“mmm, mhm,” you whined as abby’s fingers began to roll at your nipples, and it was a wonder you didn’t turn around and beg her to fuck you then and there.

what a funny way she had of making sure you were “warm.”

abby couldn’t help but chuckle as she fondled you at your chest, pinching your nipple in her thick fingers. “needy girl. want your daddy’s cock so bad, don’t you?” abby whispered into your ear, which drove you fucking crazy.

you couldn’t find it in you to answer, and only pushed yourself back onto her, eager for her touch. and, of course, this only drew out one more laugh from abby. “well, that’s one way to answer,” she teased.

when you tire of having your back pressed to abby’s front, you’re pressed up to her in a different way now, chest flush on hers as you face her. so, when abby thrust into you a little, just to tease you, of course, your face is in her neck, lips giving her small nibbles to choke back your whiny moans.

“a- abby, stop it,” you groan into the crevice your face is buried in, digging your fingernails into abby’s back. abby chokes back her own needy groans, eager to tease you instead.

“what, baby? can’t take it? didn’t you want to be warmed?” abby teased as she did it once more, rutting her hips up into you, but in the end, she cut it out. you sink your lips into her skin, pressing them to her neck so you don’t make too much noise.

it doesn’t work out that well.

“f- fuck,” you draw out, and abby can’t help but chuckle.

“so cute.”

and it’s abby, so obviously there’s a point where a little cockwarming isn’t even enough to take care of your neediness.

it begins slow with small kisses on your neck, a raspy, whispered, “mine” following each one. but it blends into much more when you find yourself not only shivering from the cold now, but from her, too.

abby’s large hands make their way under your shirt again, warming your skin in seconds, and she comes up to cup your breast. you let out a small whine when she does so, to which abby places a finger over your lips.

“shut that pretty mouth of yours for once, baby, yeah? too much noise,” she teases you, as if she doesn’t have her hands all over you, dick spreading your wet pussy open from the front as she rolls your nipple in her fingers.

but you don’t disobey her.

“good girl. such a good girl for daddy,” abby voices, only making you cuddle into her closer. the sound of the fire crackling behind you can only do so much to drown out those little whines that abby can’t get enough of.

“now let me warm you up, baby.”

so abby lays there with you, making sure you’re comfy with every little thing she’s doing, hands roaming as she kisses your neck and face. every once in a while, she’ll move her hips a bit, just to hear those cute little whimpers that you try so hard to keep down.

it’s only when you finally fall asleep that she pulls out of you, knowing that she got the job done in making her girl feel better <3

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fan fiction #the last of us smut #tlou2 smut #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson imagine #tlou abby #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou smut #tlou abby x reader

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eddiesghxst · 9 months

Note

small blurb of best friend!reader spending the night at eddies and while theyre brushing their teeth getting ready for bed (shes in a tank top n panties) he notices that she doesnt have a gag reflex🫣

oh he’d go fucking nuts🤭

18+ — MINORS DNI

————

Eddie feels like a perv for doing this. He feels guilty and shameful and all things wrong for doing this, but he can’t help it—- any moral thinking was wiped away when all the blood in his head rushed to his dick.

It was stupid, really. You and Eddie were just brushing your teeth, like any normal humans before bed. Except you were wearing that flimsy little tank top that hardly even covers anything, and Eddie… well Eddie’s not a god, of course he was looking at your tits.

They’re perfect, hard nipples pressed against the thin material of your top, a sinful jiggle waving through them as you gently work your toothbrush over your teeth. Eddie was mesmerized.

And that was fine—- Eddie’s half hard dick could be calmed with a few boner-killing thoughts, no problem.

Except all hope of bidding away his clear arousal flew out the window the second you brushed your tongue and pushed your toothbrush so far back that Eddie expected to hear a gag, but surprisingly didn’t hear a single sound of struggle. And as if you having no gag reflex wasn’t enough, you had to lean over the sink, spit out the white paste, and happily hum as you did it.

Eddie thinks he blacked out after that, because the next thing he remembers is his fist tightly pumping his aching cock like his life depended on it.

After you finished he made some lazy excuse about needing to take a leak and locked the door behind you before hastily shoving his sweats down. The second Eddie pushed down the waistband of his sweats to release his cock, he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

Eddie hasn’t been this hard in a while, pulsing and throbbing and begging for release as he wraps his hand around his tip and starts stroking. His eyes flutter shut, jaw dropping as he leans forward to press a hand against the blank wall of the bathroom. He mutters a curse to himself, shut eyes squeezing in pleasure as he thinks about the sinful act you’d just put on for him.

He imagines you atop of him, weepy cunt swallowing him whole as you bounce on his cock, pretty tits moving with each sway. He imagines reaching up and gathering your tits in each of his hands, squeezing them to watch the way your soft skin gives way beneath his fingertips, molding against his touch like they were made for him.

He lets a moan slip before placing his knuckles between his teeth, shakily breathing as he quickens his strokes. It’s been less than five minutes and he’s pathetically close, but he doesn’t care.

He imagines you clambering off his lap to drop on your knees between his legs, wasting no time to wrap your lips around his cock and take him all the way to the back of your throat. He shivers when he replays the memory of you practically deep throating your toothbrush, pink tongue tauntingly on display.

He imagines pulling out of your mouth to tap his sticky tip against the thick of your tongue, and he imagines you would sinfully hum the way you did when you spit out your toothpaste.

He’s on the brink of cumming when you knock, a worried tone bracing your voice as you speak up, “Eddie? Everything okay?”

And the second Eddie opens his mouth to answer, he cums. Sticky white ropes of cum spurt from the sensitive red tip of his cock, coating his knuckles and messily dripping onto the floor. “Y-yeah I’m—- fuck.” he throbs beneath his touch, legs threatening to give out beneath the weight of his pleasure.

His breath is bated and shaky, wide eyes watching as more cum spills with each aching throb. He glances at the doorway and curses when he still sees your shadow beneath the door. He looks back at his cock and curses because the white sticky substance just won’t stop dribbling from his cock. “Uh—- I’m good. I’m fine.”

He hears you leave and he shuts his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head against the cool wall before him as he gives his cock a few more lazy strokes. He braves one last glance at his cock as he finally finishes off and he lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief.

He’s not sure how he’s gonna be able to look you in the eyes after this.

#he’s so pervy loser #i need him #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #drabble #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #best friend!eddie #stranger things

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shoeistars · 3 months

Text

— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 1

༺ feat. isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 2 (reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou)

— ISAGI ! on the back of his phone

Oh, he’s obsessed with this one polaroid you let him take, his cock slotted between your pretty tits. Your nails sparkled in the photo due to the flash, acrylics all shiny as you held your breasts together to keep him nice and snug

That night was one where he had earned himself a big win, the celebration you gave him was timeless. Your face was all sticky, smeared in pearly cum and runny spit, little bubbles all around the corner of your mouth

Clear case and all, everyone can get a good look at his favorite girl, see just how much of a cockslut she was with a fat dick between her tits and a pearly smile on her face

— BACHIRA ! shoebox

As deranged as Bachira is, he likes to keep you for his eyes only. That being said, the Nike shoebox that’s stored under his bed is full of filth, softcore porn, downright sin

Pictures of your leaking cunt just pumping cream all over the base of his thick cock, pictures of your fucked out face all flushed and dazed. Constant memories that he happens to keep ahold of for lonely nights

There’s enough to nearly fill up the big black box that once held his soccer cleats, so full that the lid can’t even fit on properly to do its job. It’s a tradition for him to snap a shot of you when he’s got you cockdrunk, after all

— CHIGIRI ! trendy altoids wallet box

Did we expect anything else from our artsy princess? He follows trends and those metal altoid mint boxes aren’t an exception, he carries it around with him at all times, decorated to perfection

He’s got tons of miscellaneous shit in there, ranging from a mini bottle of fragrance, a roll of tums, a fortune slip from the fortune cookies the two of you got at the local chinese restaurant in your area

Oh, but his favorite item is taped at the top of the box, sealed in place with a hello kitty sticker. A polaroid of you with his cock down your throat, taking it so deep that you can see the outline in your esophagus. He just so happens to be pressing a palm flat against, Chigiri was real proud of you that night

— KUNIGAMI ! scrapbook

A man of class, really. He’d hate to see all of those precious photos of his princess getting damaged or scratched, his best bet was getting a plain book to store each pola in their own plastic slots

They’re even organized, ranging from you sucking his cock, to your back turned to him as he’s plowing your guts from behind, to you on your knees with glossy nut covering every goddamn inch of your body

It’s his prized possession, stuffed in his bookshelf next to all of his old soccer books and manga. A good flip through is enough to make him chub up in his joggers

— NAGI ! playstation

That playstation was damn expensive, he’d be a fucking fool to not add a breathtaking picture of you bouncing on his dick like it’s your lifeline. It’s taped with washi tape, front and center for him to look at anytime he’s within reach of his console

You’re purely glowing in the photo, the sheen of sweat he got you worked up in making your skin glisten like a goddess. The flash managed to catch the details of his veined up arm as he wrapped a huge hand around your throat

He’s obsessed with the expression on your face too, brows furrowed and jaw slacked with a fat glob of spit dripping past your lips like a hungry dog. His girl was a whore for big dick, a fact that made him smirk lazily when it crossed his mind

#bllk smut #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi x reader #isagi smut #bachira x reader #bachira smut #chigiri x reader #chigiri smut #kunigami x reader #kunigami smut #nagi x reader #nagi smut

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ficmenrhot · 4 months

Note

Hii could u do a smut where reader calls finnick ‘Finny’. Like she moans it out while they’re yk and it absolutely makes him feral. And he’s all like:

“What was that sugar? Say it again.” Etc.

Say it Again

Pairing: Soft dom Finnick x shy fem!reader

Notes: Dom/sub themes, voice kink, praise kink, p in v, slight corruption kink, Finnick Odair is such a munch. Minors DNI

A/N: I haven’t had the motivation to write and I’ve still got a few requests in my drafts, I’m really sorry if they’re yours. Hope I hadn’t lost my touch

————————————————————————

Finnick was your first everything- first relationship, first kiss….the first one to break you in- and quite frankly, he intends to be your last too. He loves how he gets to be the only one to teach you all of these things- to be the person who corrupts your innocence, explores different ways to give you pleasure, and work your body better than you can.

Finnick is always sure to praise you during sex to ensure you’re fully comfortable with him. Sex was never really an intimate or enjoyable thing for him before he had met you, so Finnick wants to make sure you are given the experience he never did. More than anything else, Finnick would like to hear your be more vocal during sex.

Although you occasionally make a few noises here and there, letting out small moans and soft whimpers (because let’s be real, it’s impossible to keep quiet when the Finnick Odair is railing you), you often try to conceal your sounds because you feel a bit insecure about your voice. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick would like nothing more than to hear you moan out his name and to tell him how good he makes you feel. If only you know the ego boost it would give him and how his heart would race at a single comment.

This night, Finnick has you laid out on your shared bed, the mattress soft yet supporting underneath you two as he thrusts deeply into you at a steady pace. His warm mouth is latched onto the crook of your neck, sucking and nipping, sure to leave love marks on your skin as one of his hand reaches for your clit to trace lazy circles. The sex, as usual, is phenomenal and your back is arched in pleasure, legs folded as they hang over his sculpted shoulders.

A few soft whimpers fall from your mouth involuntarily at the undeniable pleasure you’re feeling and you bite down on your bottom lips to control your noises like always. Finnick cocks his head, his mouth momentarily detaching from your neck as his lips form that signature smirk which you are so familiar with. You’re confused as of what Finnick is doing but you’re way too cockdrunk to care. His thick and lengthy cock is pounding into you so well, grazing over your cervix with every thrust and you’re surprised that it isn’t bruised by now.

Finnick grabs a pillow from the side of the bed and swiftly places it under the small of your back as he lifts you up and places you back down with ease. Your mouth falls open and you forget about controlling your volume, a loud moan mixed with a gasp leaving your mouth. The pillow has put you in an even better position, raising your hips slightly so that each of Finnick’s thrust is angled to hit that spongey spot inside of you which makes your toes curl in pleasure and back arch further.

“Hmm honey, you like that, huh?” Finnick teases after seeing your reaction, and you can only nod as you attempt to babble something incoherently.

“F-fuck…Finny, s-so good” you mumble, your mind in a state of haze right now.

Hearing your words and the nickname that just fell out of your mouth, Finnick’s eyes immediately light up and an even bigger smirk replaces the former one on his face. Although you don’t realise in the moment that Finnick has bitten his lips at your comment, you sure can feel his reaction to it as his thick cock pulsates in arousal, causing your warmth to tighten around him, feeling every vein and curve.

“What was that sugar?” Finnick chuckles both smugly and proudly, “say it again for me”

“I-I….”

Only then do you realise what you’ve said and your cheeks immediately turn pink, a flustered look appearing on your face which Finnick finds so, so adorable. You struggle to find the right words to say, only blinking shyly as you attempt to cover your face, but Finnick pulls your hands away as he stares down at you with the same smirk.

“Don’t be shy honey, your whimpers and moans are music to my ears……besides, your voice turns me on so much, you have no idea.”

Finnick whispers into your ears, and you feel a tingling sensation in your stomach, ‘butterflies’ Finnick calls them. You blink, not knowing that that is what Finnick feels about the sounds you make, and it makes you feel better.

“Now..I’ll ask you again, sugar, what is it you called me, hmm?”

Finnick hums as he cocks his head with a small teasing smile, waiting for an answer.

“…Finny. I called you Finny..”

“Good girl.”

God save Finnick Odair from the things he is going to do to you.

———————————————————————————

A/N: to whoever had requested this, hope this is what you had wanted <3 Once again, all likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated, so are comments!

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baddiewiththebook · 7 months

Text

ONE OF THE BOYS

-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]

-> a/n originally a one-shot, but I couldn’t help myself and wrote some more!

Part 1 [Part 2]

-> <-

Your heart sinks into the deepest pits of your chest. The tiny inconspicuous hole where no one would ever look. Your spirit lies under the earth, while Eddie lies bricks instead of dirt across your corpse. A quite violent death you have taken on.

“Are you still with us?” Gareth waves a hand in front of your face. Grease slips between his fingers from his two day old burger that your school pretends was freshly slapped on a grill that morning.

You squirm. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Eddie says you could come to practice,” he throws his hand up. “You’re one of the boys!”

Right.

Like someone had thrown water across your face, you slide theatrically to the floor in a puddle of you. Theatrically speaking - of course.

The lunchroom chatter dies in the back of your head like you just did a moment ago. You excuse yourself from the group, while claiming that you have forgotten your exam in the next class period and you should really put in at least a few moments of study time.

Your few moments are actually spent stowing yourself away in the ladies room.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he asked you out!” A girl squeals. “What are you going to wear? Tell me everything!”

You had stopped your self doubting and your eternally ill fading romantic imaginations you came up with while you stare at the dull gaze in your eye behind the dirty spotted bathroom mirror. You should focus on your studies anyway. Failing your senior year of high school, again, was not on your list of to-do's.

Then again, the two girls gossiping were very pretty. You took notes. Hair full and down to her chest in length. The kind of hair Texas wishes they had. Cheeks were plump, and dusted pink with some powder of sorts. Full lips covered in sweet strawberry gloss. You can smell their gloss from just a sink away. That, or perhaps that was their perfume. Sweet and feminine.

“I'm sorry,” one of them notices you staring, while she applies a thick coat of her lip-gloss. 'Strawberry Dream' is what the little label on the tube reads. “Are we being loud?”

“No, no,” you shake your head.

“Okay,” she sings awkwardly, before continuing the conversation her friend had started. “Anyway, Josie, I think we should go shopping for a new outfit. Oh! I - so - need a new gloss. Something sexy!”

“Sexy?” You accidentally slip the words, before you could stop yourself.

The girl cocks her head. “Do you usually eavesdrop?”

Not that they weren’t talking in front of her.

“My bad,” you tug at the ends of your t-shirt. “Erm- you’re trying to impress this boy?”

“Yes,” she says simply. “Do you have some sort of advice?”

Looking you up and down, she spots the stains from your lunch at your chest. Trying not to snort and jeer at your expense, she waits for you to respond. Her cocky tight lipped smile says enough.

“Actually,” you reply. “I- Why don’t you try being yourself? He clearly likes you to ask you out, so maybe you could tone it down?”

“Tone it down?” She frowns. “Like you? Tell me er- girl of some sort- how many dates have you gotten with that fresh out of bed look you wear every single day. You look like a shy boy. Yeah, I see you around. You’re small like a shrimp. You need to be shark in these waters or your going to get your head bitten off. Put on a bra. A low cut top. And, maybe some blush to hide that dead corpse face you wear-,”

“It’s my skin-,”

“When you get a date, then you get an opinion. Got it?”

“Got it,” you zip your lips. What a bitch.

-> <-

Practice, as the group of men slamming poorly synchronized chords together, is held at Gareth’s garage promptly after school. You did not participate in the noise, but rather you sit in a lawn chair onlooking. Fanning yourself with your hands, sweat glistens across your skin like armor.

Your friends finish their set. Eyes on you, you cheer for their noise that will surely draw eyes from the neighborhood. Someone will be by soon to tell the boys to quiet their racket, and to perhaps indulge themselves in a new activity like reading a book. The Book, perhaps.

“You’re getting better,” you propose promisingly.

Eddie nudges your shoulder with a fist on his way to the cooler to grab a cold soda. You pretend like your heart didn’t just stop inside of your chest.

“I told you, guys,” Eddie has been raving to his band mates (and occasional D&D players) that you, his B.F.F., wasn’t going to ruin practice. That just because you might have a new rack and hips hidden underneath this t-shirt wasn’t going to change any dynamic within the group.

They all agreed about this while staring at your ever growing chest and hips. You cover your chest again, before speaking out of turn.

“Are you ever going to preform these songs?” You ask the group.

Eddie’s plush lips touch the bottle his soda came in. Condensation from the glass dripped across his chin and down his neck to the exposed flesh of his chest.

And, they were so worried about you “developing.” Here you are, eyeballing your best friend like you haven’t ever seen him before. Suddenly, you woke up one morning and you were obsessed with him!

It isn’t like that at all. You didn’t know when you began having feelings for your best friend. Somewhere between living next to each other in the trailer park. Sneaking out after your curfew to splash in Lovers Lake (Eddie’s favorite way to wash off his worries). And, the times you tripped over your own clumsiness when Eddie was the first to rescue you. You might have just fallen into his eyes you stared at them so long. Maybe- maybe that’s when something changed.

No more boys and girls - there are men and women. High school changes us - all of us. There’s science behind it all, you suppose. You took health courses, but no scientific explanation could bring you to figure out how you were completely enamored by your best friend.

Your best friend, who is sweating underneath the heat of the garage. Finding himself without options, he strips his shirt.

“Hold this for me,” he says like there’s no issue. Because there was no issue for him, you’re alone in your feelings. Classic.

“Sure,” you fold his shirt up in your lap, while resisting the urge to inhale his scent like a trained dog trying to find a missing person. Or, like an addict getting their fix for the first time in days.

“And, yes,” Eddie announces, before slamming down a new chord. “Come watch us at the Hideout!”

“Really?!”

“Sure,” Gareth speaks for his friend. “If you want.”

“I’ll come,” you ask, “What time?”

“We’ll start setting up around six in the evening, but we’re not set to play until seven,” Eddie explains to you. “Friday.”

You nod. “I’ll be there!”

“Oh, Eddie!” Gareth grabs his attention. “You gonna bring Roxie?”

Roxie Martin? Now, she’s a hot pair of tits in a mini skirt. Full scarlet lips, Rockin’ Roxie, as some people called her, was a She Devil in human skin. Sinking her teeth into her pray, she poisons them with feminine venom. She doesn’t even have to sing them a tune, for men will follow her into the depths of the vast blue ocean without question.

Some just thought she was a slut in heels, though.

Whatever story floats.

Eddie strums a sour note.

“Dude, I’m just teasing,” his friend snickers.

Eddie scolds his friend, then the group of boys begin to slam on their instruments some more.

You sat there for hours watching Eddie slobber over his guitar. Sweat glistened down across his skin. His fingers striking each chord by heart as he did every night. Touching the strings expertly with the tips of his cherry red fingers. He begun feeling sore towards the end of the night, and the guys agree that it would probably be a good opportunity to turn in for the night.

Practice would resume tomorrow.

And you were forever and eternally frustrated.

-> <-

“Robin,” you slouched over the clear candy bowl labeled ‘Free.’ “I need to be a girl.”

Robin jabs away at the keypad of the store computer that is clearly frozen. While she might be renting out videos to people, Robin’s shit with technology.

That gave her more time to ignore her responsibilities, however, and acknowledges to your moping. With an arched brow, she sucks in her lips and she lets them go with a loud pop.

“You are a girl,” she states the obvious, while appearing to look down at your chest. “Or- so I think.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you stuff more candy into your mouth like a starved squirrel just coming out from hibernation. Squirrels hibernate, don’t they? Whatever.

“What ever could you possibly mean?” She props herself up onto her elbows.

There was a time when you were a child that a mean boy kicked dirt on you at the playground. Swooping in like your knight in shining armor, Eddie came to you to brush the dirt from your clothes and to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Feeling outcasted, Eddie surrounded himself in the weaker kids. The kids that enjoy recess sitting on the brick wall of their school, or close by the door to wait for your teachers to let you back inside.

You read books with him during quiet reading because he didn’t know how to keep the letters from mixing together. Eddie would apologize for his hair being frizzy, and all over the place. You thought he was funny looking like that.

Sometimes you wish you could go back to the good old days where your heart didn’t sing in your chest whenever your childhood best friend was near. You wish the aching in your bones would sooth itself instead of feeling fuzzy every time Eddie greeted you at a whisper from behind. That his strong hand touching you like a doll would become friendly again, and less like you want to shove him against the lockers to kiss his pretty face.

You knew better.

Yet, here you are.

Say it had something to do with what happened yesterday. Roxie’s sexy. You want her sexy. Not her. But, just the sexy. And, whoever was in the bathroom was right. You’re much more than a baggy t-shirt and a pair of denim on your legs. You grew up during the summer, and so what if you want to show off a bit. You earned your assets.

“I can’t tell you,” you put out there for Robin to read. “You’ll blab to Steve, and Steve will tell- doesn’t matter.”

You wait for her to speak, but Robin never does. She blinks at you.

“There’s this boy-,”

“A boy?!” Her voice echoes against the furthest most walls.

You wave your hands. “Robin!”

“Go on!”

“I just - I want to grow up a little.”

The jangle of the front door opening broke their conversation apart. There was nothing elegant about Eddie Munson. He slammed his jacket into the stand of desperately rentable tapes. The display wobbled. Swiveled. And, slammed into the floor. The video tapes splattered.

“Dude!” Robin huffs. “I just put those up!”

Eddie scrambles to rescue the mess. “My bad, Robs. You know? You might not want to put these right in front of the walkway. ‘Could get knocked over - see?”

Robin knew Eddie from class. Smart mouth guy with a lot to say about literature. He held a lot in his head, but once he got to a piece of paper, he could just go.

“The usual, Eddie?”

Oh, and he also rented out the same tape once a week for the past three weeks. It was a Rated R film that had a single one minute scene of a nude woman on top of a man she was suffocating. Not with her boobs- with his belt.

Robin snaps back into reality.

“Eh, looking for something new,” he fixed the display, before joining the girls at the register. “Suggestions?”

Robin slams her palm against the monitor. “Stupid thing is still frozen. Oh! Did you hear your little pal has a crush on a boy?”

“Robin!” You cringe. Turning into the wallpaper sounds really nice right about now. Hell, you’ll fix that computer if it gets Robin off the topic of you.

Anyone, she can blab to anyone, but Eddie. Where was Steve when you needed him? Oh, you are so screwed!

“What? It’s just Eddie!”

Just Eddie - yeah, Robin, that’s the problem.

“A crush? On who?” Eddie scoffs out loud.

Your jaw goes agape. “Are you saying I can’t have a crush on someone?”

“No, I just- you’re one of the guys!”

“She can’t be one of the guys forever,” Robin defends you. Perhaps she saw you twitch. “She’s a girl underneath those stains.”

You brush your dirty t-shirt.

“Robin-,”

“What? Whoever this boy is, he’s shit out of luck if he doesn’t see what we all see,” your friend continues.

Eddie teeters his balance back and forth on each foot.

“I’m going to go look for a movie,” he says.

Robin ignores him shuffling into the isles. “I’m just saying if he doesn’t like you back that is his loss. Right?”

You peak around for any sight of Eddie. His frizzy mane is locked onto a movie in the farthest isle.

“Oh my god,” Robin follows your gaze. “Oh my god! This is big- no, huge- I can’t believe before my eyes your friends to lovers trope-,”

“Robin! Hush!” You whisper at a much louder volume than you anticipate.

Yet, here comes Eddie back to the counter without a film in hand. Robin shoots you a glance that screams that she’s about to burst like a toddler who has to pee, but they can’t get their overalls off.

“Can’t find anything?” Robin intertwined her fingers in front of her.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Eddie sighs.

The sound that came from Robin’s lips could have been the earth splitting in two, and trying to suck her in or the angels above calling her back to heaven. She’s a bit eccentric.

Oh, God, you think she’s plotting.

“Actually,” she settles. “I have a film back here that we haven’t set out on shelves yet.”

“Is it a romance?” He guesses purely based on the actors gazing longingly on the front cover. “Robin, I don’t do romance.”

“Obviously,” she says as a matter-of-fact. “Anyway, this is a mystery. Hm? You know? Like clues and shit.”

“Clues and shit?”

“Maybe,” you signal ‘no’ to Robin, but she blatantly ignores you, “you two can watch it together. Hm? Solve the mystery, before the show ends? Let me know what you think!”

“Robin-,” Eddie begins, but Robin is already scanning the tape to rent out.

“It’ll be fun!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll see you around six for a movie night like old times?”

You mask your embarrassment. Nodding in a set agreement, Eddie left with the film still eyeing the cover like it had just insulted him.

“How could you do that?” You shame her.

Robin shrugs her shoulders, while dancing behind the counter like a relationship fairy.

“Oh! You’ll need something to wear by then!” She shouts to her coworker. “Steve! I’m not feeling well! Will you be okay for the rest of the day?!”

“Ah ha,” Steve appears like he’s been waiting for permission to enter the conversation. “You’re not leaving me here by myself!”

“What was that? I can’t hear you,” she points to her ear, as she’s setting her jacket over her shoulders. “Ear ache.”

“Robin!”

“Huh? Oh, thank you!” She shuffles herself and you out the front door.

Warm air meets you outside. Although you wished to take off another layer, you felt practically naked as is. Cotton blend shirts were thick in these spring days. The same could be said for your denim jeans.

“Won’t he be mad?” You ask.

Robin snorts. “Steve? No.”

No explanation given - no explanation necessary. Robin and Steve were like a pair of siblings at most times. Although, knowing Steve had a thing for Robin at some point made the analogy much creepier than it should have been.

You drive yourself and Robin back to your home where your family was not. They’re out of town for the whole week doing an anniversary trip. Figuring your of the age to take care of yourself, they’ve left you by yourself with only the responsibility of keeping the home clean.

“What are we looking for?” You sit on your made bed hugging one of your pillows to your chest, while Robin riffles through your closet.

Robin shoves another dress across the hanger to the disapproved pile. Her grunts and sighs are discouraging as is, but rather her blatant disregard that you like some of those clothes is hurting even more. Or, maybe you like those clothes. You haven’t gone shopping in a while.

“Do you own anything that isn’t from Forever 40?” She jokes heartily.

You tilt your head to one side. “I like my clothes.”

“Well, we don’t have time for shopping,” she scans around your room for something. Jostling your clean laundry, your papers across your desk and the drawers under them - she finally lets out an, “Ah, ha!”

You groan. “Are you going to clean your mess?”

Clearly ignoring you, Robin holds up a sharpened pair of scissors like a magic wand. Holding one of your plain shirts in the air, she begins slicing away at every angle.

“Hey!” You protest.

She pauses. “Right, put it on.”

“Rob, that’s my favorite shirt!”

“I’ll buy you another one,” she shoves your head through the hole, and continues sniping at the edges. Fondling your chest, she measures where the top of your breast lies. “Hey! Your the first woman to let me touch their boobs. Congrats!”

You laugh at this. “Robin, as your friend, you can touch my boobs any time you need a fix.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time,” she jokes back. With one more snip, she steps away from you. “You have any skirts? No, of course you don’t. Jeans will have to do.”

You couldn’t hear Robin’s tangent. In the standing mirror hung on your wall, you saw someone new. Surely, she moves when you move. Her chest bounces while she breathes. That tan from the summer on the beach is touching her skin in a most devilish manor. You hold your chin a bit higher seeing what a few snips from craft scissors will do.

“Makeup!” Robin insists.

Pink rouge presses into your cheekbones. Those cheekbones you earned from your grandmother. That’s always the compliment your mother spoke. And, mascara coated thickly across your eyelashes. Your lashes are rather short, but with that black mascara you were seeing yourself glow with confidence.

Lip gloss that tasted like honey-

“In case you’re kissing any boys tonight,” she clicks the tube together with the wand. “My dear, you’re ready.”

You take a spin in the mirror.

“I hardly recognize myself,” you touch your hair.

Robin slaps your hand away. “Don’t mess that up, before Eddie gets here. Oh! And, look at the time, I should go.”

You’re left by yourself for another hour. Twiddling your thumbs, and checking your makeup by the minute. Eventually, you pop popcorn in the microwave and place the bowl in the center of the coffee table in the living room. You twist the bowl around, so you can’t see the chip on the side from when you dropped the bowl a few years ago.

Tapping your foot against the plush carpet beneath your feet, you travel between worlds where you feel ridiculous for dressing up like this, but you also feel hot.

Denim cuts at your waist, and you begin to doubt wearing jeans instead of pajamas. You never wore jeans after you got home. Eddie will surely know what’s up.

You have no time to change your mind because the doorbell rings through the quiet house. Stillness - as if moving would threaten your life somehow. Then, again, the doorbell sings.

You drag the sweat from your hands onto the back of your jeans. Jeans that you should have changed to shorts. He’ll see right through your ruse!

You settle your nerves with one more glance over in the mirror in your little entryway. When you open the front door, Eddie’s tickling the lavender your mom set out on the front porch last week.

“What? Your shirt go through a lawnmower?” Was the first thing he says.

You knew it.

“Erm-,”

“I brought the movie, and beer,” he held up the movie and a six pack he snaked off of his uncle. “Come on, I’m freezing out here.”

Eddie doesn’t ask where anything is. He’s been here so many times before, birthdays, holidays and any time your mother has just come back from the supermarket with “the good snacks.”

You knew each other for some time, which is probably why he’s never going to see you as someone other than his best friend. Why would you think about that? You had a shot, right?

“I popped popcorn,” you pointed in the living room.

“Sick,” he drops down into your couch. “We can go ahead and start the movie - the guys will be here soon.”

“The guys?” You blurt.

“Well, yeah,” Eddie says. “Like old times?”

“Right,” the light in your eye fades, and you just hope Eddie can’t sense the hesitance in your tone.

In the next hour, your quiet date night that had been set up by your overly optimistic friend, swirls in the direction that it is always meant to be. You squish into the couch arm rest, while Gareth battles Eddie over the movie choice. Although, this time the boys came to an agreement that this was not an action movie like Robin promised Eddie earlier.

“Where’s the gore?!” Gareth flings popcorn at the television screen. “Throw her off the ledge!”

“You want to see an innocent woman flung to her death?” You snap at him.

A piece of popcorn drops from Gareth’s mouth, and into his awaiting lap. You didn’t come to raising your tone with the boys unless something truly bothers you. Clearly, by the tightness in your chest, some of the anger spills over the edge. Quite like the woman dangling the man’s waist.

“Never mind,” you stand. “I’m going to make more popcorn.”

Taking the bowl from Eddie, you stow away in the comfort of your kitchen. Before your mother left for her trip, a folded note stacked on the island told you to not bring anyone over. But, if you are going to have boys over, she asks that you use protection. She has a wild imagination if she thinks her daughter has a sex life.

She must have passed this onto you. You toss yourself at someone, who obviously holds no similar feelings as you do. This whole night was a bust. Your eyes itch from the mascara. Your lips bled from when you chewed on them like they’re your last meal. At least the color matches with your lip gloss that you reapplied many times in the bathroom when you need a break from the crowd in your living room. And, you can’t feel your waist anymore. Tingling below the belt - and for all the wrong reasons.

“You okay?” Gareth’s voice startles you.

You spin around, and he’s there standing where the carpet meets the linoleum.

A yell from the living room suggests something mortifying must have happened in the film like the boy finally kissing the girl, or perhaps saying something romantic.

“Yeah,” you blink. “Just- making more popcorn.”

Gareth doesn’t say anything about the popcorn bags sitting on the counter next to him, but the room reads itself. You scamper over to the bag, before ripping the plastic and the bag apart by accident sending kernels across the floor. Gareth meets you at the floor below.

“Shit,” you sniff. “I’ll get the broom.”

“Hey,” he grabs your arm, before you can run off again. “What’s going on?”

You sit next to the mess on the floor letting out a gust of air from your lungs that you’ve been holding onto for dear life.

“It’s stupid,” you tell him.

Gareth moves a piece of your hair from in front of your face. “What?”

You look at him for the first time. Between you two, you didn’t have to say a word he didn’t already know. Because while you’re chasing Eddie, Gareth’s warm heart is following after you. You’re blind to him before.

“Eddie’s not going to like me back, is he?” You whisper at an almost inaudible volume. Dabbing at your eye, you wipe the single tear threatening to break the damn.

Gareth sits next to you with his arms wrapped around his knees.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I think he just hasn’t woken up yet. He does talk about you a lot when your not around.”

“Really?”

“You scare him,” Gareth lets out a breathy laugh. “In a good way. He- he’s never had someone to rely on in his life besides his uncle. And, if what Eddie says is true, you’ll never truly change to please anyone. You’re loyal, and your funny. You’re beyond beautiful. The Goddesses shrivel in your light-.”

Your cheeks heat up.

“Okay, I might have added that last part,” he admits. “But, you never know if you don’t try.”

You reach out for his hand. “Thank you, Gareth.”

He squeezes your hand. “Anytime.”

You say. “And I- I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Erm- you know.”

“I guess I do,” he looks away. “I’ll be fine.”

You toss a popcorn kernel Gareth’s direction hoping to lighten the mood. Gareth snorts and tosses one back.

“We should clean up,” you tell him.

Gareth agrees. “Oh, and - when I said you don’t change, I meant it.”

You pull at your half shirt. “Yeah, I don’t think this is me. Everyone just kept telling me to stop dressing like a boy.”

“Trust me,” Gareth suggests. “You do not look like a boy.”

“Oh, shut up,” you gather yourself on your own two feet. “I don’t know - I kind of like the look, but maybe tone it down a bit?”

“I’ll get the broom,” Gareth says leaving your question unanswered. "Oh, and I promise to keep myself and the guys out of your way the next time Eddie suggests we all have a 'movie night'" at your house."

"You caught onto that?"

"It's a classic move," he sweeps. "I can't say I wasn't going to try it on you some day."

"Well, I'm sorry that it won’t work out between us," you assure him.

"I'll survive," he won’t really look at you now, only at the task at hand. "Besides, I know how great of a guy Eddie is. If you do go out with him, there’s no hard feelings."

Gareth sweeps every last kernel from the floor, then uses the dust pan to scoop them up and finally tosses them into the bin. By the time he's done scoping out every inch of your floor, you're done popping a new bag of popcorn.

The movie night continues without a hitch (aside from the merciless damning of the film coming from each of the boys in your home). Your eye on the one man, who could never look at you the way you do him. But, you don't know that for sure.

Because, as soon as you look away, Eddie's full attention is on you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson preference #angst

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fangswbenefits · 6 months

Text

The Arrangement (1)

Summary: You managed to convince Astarion not to go through with the rite of profane ascension. He remains a vampire spawn, and you now offer your blood from time to time to help with his sanguine hunger until a solution is found. Even though you had both decided to stay as friends back in Moonrise Towers, lines begin to blur once more as other cravings come to the surface… and things with Astarion are seldom uncomplicated.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+. Endgame spoilers. Blood drinking. Mutual pining. Biting. S*xual tension. Mentions of past trauma.

Series masterlist . AO3

"He's upstairs."

You nodded curtly, but before you could turn in your heels and head to the wooden staircase, you felt a hand grip at your arm.

"He hasn't been paying his due," Bork, the Blushing Mermaid tavern's publican, said with a rise of his brows.

"Noble room again?"

"Yes."

As expected. Astarion would sooner be caught dead again than having to stay at a merchant or peasant room.

He adored all things lavish and that extended to his accommodations, naturally.

"I'll cover for it," you said, snatching your arm away. "How much?"

He bared his yellow teeth. "Thirty gold pieces."

You felt Shadowheart's burning gaze on you. She didn't approve of you cleaning after him. Especially since her protective instinct dragged her along with you every single time.

"Very well," you said through gritted teeth, rummaging through your pouch, and handing him the expected amount.

"Good," the older man said with a twirl of his kitchen knife. "If your pale friend does it again, he's done for."

Threats like this would usually warrant you to bare your dagger or cast a less friendly spell, but you couldn't afford to cause a scene.

Not in front of so many onlookers.

You felt Shadowheart briefly tense up by your side. "Do hurry up. I shall wait for you."

Nodding, you gave her an assuring nod before heading up the staircase.

The first floor was reserved for the highest paying customers, and it was heavily decorated and with candles spreading along the narrow corridor.

You paced quickly along the wooden floor, already knowing where to find him.

Room 7.

At this point, you were already over common pleasantries, so you skipped knocking at the door and just barged inside.

You heard a sleepy groan from the crimson bed placed at the centre of the luxurious room.

Astarion wasn't alone.

He was laying on top of the silk sheets, flipping through a book, seemingly undisturbed by your sudden appearance. Curiously enough, he was fully clothed, wearing a frill shirt and his regular trousers.

However, the woman next to him was very much fully naked, with only a blanket draping over her bare torso.

The sight made your stomach twist and turn.

"Hello, darling," he said casually as if you had just walked in on him picking flowers.

She peeked over her shoulder with a horrified look spreading across her pleasant face.

Of course she was extremely attractive.

She let out a shriek. "Do you mind?"

"No," you said dryly.

She immediately rolled out of bed, shooting a murderous glance your way, while scrambling to collect her belongings from the carpeted floor.

The door snapped shut behind her, and you were already pacing toward his bedside table once you spotted his coinpurse.

"Happy, are you? You scared her off, poor thing," he shook his head, feigning disapproval.

"You owe me."

You reached out to grab the thick pouch, but caught sight of the glint of a blade and the cool touch of metal being pressed gently against the back of your hand.

Typical.

"Ah-ah-ah..." he tutted with a click of his tongue. "Where are your manners?"

He seemed very serious all of a sudden, but you knew better. "I'll hex you."

"Faster than me piercing through your skin?" he asked, tapping the flat side of the blade playfully on your skin.

You really did consider hexing him for a split second just out of spite. "You overestimate your abilities."

"And you could have cursed me already, but are too lost in my dashing good looks."

Your jaw dropped in utter disbelief.

"That lovely mouth of yours could never compete with my agile fingers."

The insinuation wasn't even subtle, and it was enough to make your blood boil.

You scowled deeply at him, shoving his dagger out of the way. "Thirty gold pieces."

He slipped the blade under his pillow again with a devious grin.

"Bork was rather eager to have at you, so I just paid him. Maybe next time I won't intervene."

"And what would he do? Kill me again?"

Point taken.

A dangerous smile danced across his lips. "And here I thought you intended to start charging me for our arrangement."

You glared at him intensely, feeling momentarily outraged. "You're the one profiting off of it. Entirely."

"Hmm, debatable."

You narrowed your eyes. "If anything, you should be paying me, no?"

He snatched the coinpurse from your grasp, tugging it open before handing you a few gold pieces.

"Here you go, darling. Sixty gold pieces," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Buy yourself a new attire, while you're at it."

You glanced down the length of your body, arching a brow and straightening your shirt and trousers. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Astarion scoffed. "I don't even know where to begin, but do not fret. You could be wearing nothing but a rotting sack of potatoes, and I would still not be deterred from your neck."

You pressed your lips tightly together, and glanced at the gold pieces in your hand. "Your sweet-talking skills have been slightly below par as of late."

He chuckled, crossing his hands behind his head and against the meticulously wooden-carved headboard. "Yet here you are."

Not that you had much of a choice, really.

Halving the sum of money he had given you, you shoved the rest in your pocket while placing the other half on the table.

"Keep it."

"Don't be ridiculous," you groaned.

"Working on your flattery, I see?"

He was enjoying this far too much, and the more you talked back, the more you instigated him to continue.

"Why don't you just pay him when he asks for it?"

"Oh, darling…"

Here we go…

He was casually checking his hands, putting on his condescending demeanour. "Patience is a virtue he clearly lacks. If I'm to live eternally, I might as well teach these commoners some manners."

"Or you just adore getting on people's nerves," you said with a sly smile.

He grinned so wide, you caught a glimpse of his razor-sharp fangs peeking through. "You know me too well."

You used to think so.

Now, you weren't so sure.

Clearing your throat, you looked around the dimly lit room until your eyes settled on the large majestic bed. "She was really pretty."

"You sound surprised."

"Not at all. She does fit your type."

He laughed dramatically, further grinding your nerves. "I have a type?"

You gave him a look.

"You mean outrageously beautiful and undeniably entertaining?" he asked innocently. "Like you?"

Your heart jolted.

His method of seduction was deemed nigh pristine, and a few weeks ago, you would have maybe fallen hard for this level of charm.

But not anymore.

Well, for the most part…

"She was not outrageously beautiful."

He placed on hand at his chest, feigning hurt. "First you rob me, and now you question my taste in beauty. I'm not entirely sure my dead heart can take much more of this."

You huffed, crossing your arms before glancing out the window. The full moon lit up the street below, as the night began to draw out those who preferred to keep to the shadows.

And those who had no choice but to do so.

Like Astarion.

"I didn't do it."

His voice startled you and you stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He paused briefly. "I didn't do anything with her, if that's what you're thinking. There is an odd comfort in being surrounded by beauty, even if only to glare at, and nothing else."

Your heart clenched at how vulnerable he sounded all of a sudden. His pleasing face held an expression that you'd seen many times before…

Guilt.

The ripple effects of centuries of torture and abuse still slipped through the cracks of his usual pompous demeanour.

"Your personal matters are your own, Astarion. No need to justify yourself."

He stared at you in silence for a moment, and the urge to reach out to embrace him nearly took over.

Until his features began to twist into a light frown. "Don't look at me like that. I can't stand it."

"Like what?"

"That look. Pity. Spare me," he groaned with a roll of his eyes.

You weren't surprised in the slightest that he went into his defensive mode so rapidly.

He would fluctuate so often around you these days, that it gave you whiplash. Some days, he would let his guard down and allow you in, while others were plagued with him having a brick wall up around him if you happened to breathe in the wrong direction.

You had learned how to navigate through his tough exterior when the two of you traveled together, and as he opened more and more to you.

It all culminated when you offered your help against Cazador, and having him make the decision not to go through with the ritual that would doom so many souls – including his own — in the process.

He had thanked you for saving him from himself.

But nowadays, talking to him was like walking on eggshells while simultaneously dancing around his weathervane mood.

It was as if your relationship had somewhat soured over the past few weeks, and all the remnants of a solid friendship were now beginning to crack.

"You know, you don't have to be here," you said softly, trying to disperse the tension. "You are more than welcome to stay with us."

Astarion snickered darkly. "And having to endure that dullard? Please. I'd rather stake myself, darling."

You rolled your eyes and heaved a sigh at the targeted provocation.

"Gale is not a dullard. He is quite inter-"

But he began to part his mouth into a forced yawn. "Boring already! See, this is what happens when you choose to surround yourself with such unstimulating company – it spreads, and you used to be so much fun," he finished with a dramatic pout.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you sent him a death glare. "He's not the only one there."

There was a hint of amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Oh, yes! How could I forget Shadowheart and her magnificent ability to bore me." He swung his feet off the bed, standing gracefully. "Or perhaps you mean Lae'zel? She's clearly in debt to whichever god bestows a sense of humour."

An added layer of defense: sarcasm.

No one wielded it quite like Astarion, which also proved to be a major inconvenience when trying to win an argument.

I'm also there, you wanted to say, but chose to remain silent.

Deep down, you detested how you still longed for his company. Even after so many weeks had gone by. Even when he seemed so averse to it outside of this… arrangement.

Your relationship had been reduced to nothing more than a transaction.

Once again.

Your blood for his hunger to be quenched even if only momentarily.

"Or are you referring to yourself?" he mused, pacing towards you while adjusting his shirt.

It was extremely infuriating that he could see through you so easily.

"Let's get this over with, then," you said, words stinging in your throat.

He offered a faint smile, as he came to stand before you. "I must say, our weekly encounters are nothing short of exciting," he brought his fingers to your jaw, tilting your head gently as his eyes roamed across your neck. "And I am positively famished."

You felt a gentle tug at the collar or your shirt, and glanced down to see him undoing the buttons with just one hand.

All those years of honing his dexterity were bound to come in handy at the most convenient of times, and Astarion would never shy away from displaying his expertise.

Your senses were suddenly hit with the faint scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy.

His scent.

The same that once brought you comfort through the toughest of times.

But now…

"Which side will it be this time?"

You swallowed hard, shuddering. "You decide."

He caressed your neck tenderly, tipping your head to the opposite side, half-hooded eyes roaming across your exposed skin.

"Ever so generous."

You huffed in annoyance. "Astarion."

He didn't need to be warned twice, and you soon felt his soft lips brush across your skin, as he searched for your steady pulse. The contact made you jolt slightly and he took your hands in his, placing them at his waist.

"Hold on, darling," he whispered, as his breath fanned your flushed skin, before darting out his agile tongue and enclosing his lips around the selected area.

You had let him feed on you many times before, but the flutter was ever present. It wasn't out of fear or concern that he might take it too far. He never did. But the knowledge that you were, once again, involved in something so intimate truly gnawed at your nerves.

As soon as you felt the initial sting, you balled your fists, gripping the fabric of his shirt tight, as you hissed in pain.

He held your jaw in between his fingers whilst his other hand was firmly pressed to the back of your head, making sure you were anchored in place.

Astarion moaned first – a muffled and deep sound that reverberated across his lips with each mouthful of blood he downed.

Your eyes dropped close all of a sudden and he pressed his body against yours, acting purely on the instinct driven by his bloodlust.

And just like all those times before, you began to feel it.

With each passing second, the all too familiar and ever-growing pressure in your lower abdomen became harder and harder to ignore.

He had once revealed how your blood worked like an aphrodisiac whenever he drank from you; how he couldn't keep his body from reacting to it, and, ultimately, to you. After all, you had been the first thinking creature he had ever fed on.

As such, you had grown accustomed to his erection being pressed firmly against you – a constant reminder of how easy it was for him to make you yearn for more.

Whatever pain you had left from the initial bite, had morphed into a very subtle wave of pleasure that spread from between your legs.

You cursed inwardly, tugging harder at his shirt.

You didn't wish for your body to be so… primal.

Even with blood being drained from you, and the act itself being considered so profane, it was still a much welcome moment of intimacy that you had come to embrace.

A soft roll of his hips lulled you into him like a moth to a flame. Your body struggled with fading from the blood loss as well with the increasing throb between your thighs.

At this point, you couldn't help but moan softly as he eased his grip on you until he had fully withdrawn his teeth from you.

Your eyes fluttered open and you had to blink twice to disperse the haziness blurring your vision.

Crimson red tainted his lips, and droplets of the warm liquid threatened to spill over. The sight of him revelling in your blood used to make your stomach turn, but now it had morphed into a habit.

But what truly caught your attention was how he looked faintly… displeased?

He lowered his head, crimson eyes locking in with yours.

"That was quick," you whispered, struggling to ease your throbbing clit, as his erection was still very much pressed against you.

But now he was frowning.

Suddenly, you felt experienced fingertips trailed across your lower abdomen, casually teasing the hem of your waistband.

You sucked in a breath, chills sprawling all over your body, as he began to trace down your thigh, just where your dagger was resting.

"What are you–"

He pressed a long finger to his blood-stained lips and you swallowed, his eyes darkening. "We have company."

Before you could process his words, you felt your dagger being yanked swiftly from its sheath. With a languid shift of his feet, you watched as he threw the sharp blade across the room.

Just as it cut through the air, the large wooden door began to swing open and Shadowheart came into view.

The dagger landed dangerously close to her head, the tip carving into the wood and wobbling faintly.

She frowned slightly. "You missed."

He darted out his tongue to collect droplets of blood. "Did I?"

She looked positively unimpressed by such a display of skill, even one that could have easily maimed her.

But he had deliberately missed.

Of course he had.

You caught a glimpse of Astarion's reddened ears – the ultimate proof that he had recently fed, and one that, somehow, sent a shiver down your spine.

The bloodless effect was also beginning to take a hold of your body, as dizziness spread more and more.

Snapping out of your transfixed gaze, you hurriedly brought the handkerchief in your pocket to apply some pressure to your bleeding wound.

"Stealth was never your forte, darling," Astarion mused, visibly annoyed. "You're about as subtle as a pack of gnolls."

A teasing smile parted her lips. "You have such a way with words."

He grinned deviously. "It's called being eloquent, dear Shadowheart. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"I was taught to converse with others without constantly resorting to sarcasm," she mused, hurling your dagger back at him. "Not that you'd know anything about that."

As expected, he caught it in between his fingers with little to no effort, twirling it easily with the expertise that only centuries of practice could provide.

He clicked his tongue. "No wonder you're so tedious. But… eavesdropping? My, my… how unbecoming of you, darling."

A flash of surprise crossed her face. "I - I was doing no such thing! I merely decided to make sure everything was all right." Her face softened as she turned to you, her usual caring nature surfacing. "Do you need any healing?"

You smiled warmly at her, patting the pouch at your hip. "No need, thank you. Brought the scroll of Lesser Restoration you gave me."

Astarion scoffed.

Shadowheart ignored him. "I ought to go. Gale needs my assistance with some letters he's received from Waterdeep," she said, straightening up to her default stoic pose. "I trust you're quite done here."

You nodded, clearing your throat.

"What, you're not joining us for a nibble?" Astarion pouted dramatically.

"Over my dead body."

He looked as amused as ever. "That can certainly be arranged. Though I prefer fresh blood… right from the source."

Her features hardened once more and you decided to intervene. "Will you stop it? You're like a cat with its claws out."

Astarion snapped his head at you. "Excuse me? Claws?"

"Would it kill you - well, again - not to be so damn abrasive all the time?"

He groaned sheepishly. "She interrupted my feeding. It can be quite hard to resist the urge to behead her."

Shadowheart's gaze dropped to his lower half with the slightest uptick of one corner of her mouth. "By the looks of it, Astarion, you have other hardships to concern yourself with."

A rush of heat spread across your face as you followed her line of sight and were met by the very prominent outline of his erection strained against his trousers.

He turned around, mumbling curses under his breath to adjust himself, and Shadowheart looked at you with a triumphant smile.

It wasn't an easy feat to silence Astarion, yet she had achieved it so gracefully.

"I'll see you later, I suppose," she mused and you nodded. "It was rather entertaining seeing you again, Astarion."

He threw her an infuriating glance over his shoulder.

By the time she had closed the door behind her, you were already taking the scroll into your hands and whispering the incantation, as the paper scroll began to disintegrate itself.

A wave of warmth spread through your hands, before engulfing your body in it. Strength and heightened senses gradually returned to you as the lasting effects of him feeding on you dispersed.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted him glaring at you with a visible sulk.

"I'll come back next week."

"Leaving already?" He asked, fake heartbreak twisting his features and voice. "Was wondering if you could, perhaps, give me a hand."

He handed you your dagger, which you promptly slid back inside its sheath.

Your eyes then widened at his not so subtle suggestion.

Uncertainty boiled deep within you, and you had to muster your will to keep yourself from immediately leaving.

Astarion's healing path had been one he had decided to tread alone. The relationship he had with sex had been the reason you two had decided to be as friends and nothing more. You had fallen hard for him – or his deceit – but you figured what he truly needed was a friend and not a lover.

And so you left your infatuation for him behind.

It was better off this way.

But now… watching him fall back to his usual charming advances made you somewhat wary. Was he back to forcing himself to seek intimacy with his body, because he still couldn't do it effectively in any other way? Was he simply feeling more at ease?

You met his sultry gaze and cleared your throat. "Well, I'm sure you can ask that outrageously beautiful woman to help you out, if that is what you truly seek."

That seemed to have caught him by surprise, and he cocked his head. "What?"

"She seemed positively distraught for having to leave your company so early," you said, dragging the handkerchief down your neck to wipe off the trail of blood.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, darling?"

"Delusion does not suit you, darling."

He took a few steps towards you until you could see the crimson of his eyes flicker as they studied your face.

Your stomach turned.

The proximity made you feel vulnerable and you immediately felt naked under his burning gaze.

Astarion had over two centuries of practice when it came to reading others. It wasn't an easy feat to deceive him, and you were no exception.

"We traveled together for so long and I can safely say I never took you for a liar – perhaps too soft-hearted for my liking, but not a liar."

"I did not lie," you shot back, lifting your chin in defiance. "I can offer you my friendship and even my blood, but I'm not so sure about anything else."

He heaved a deep sigh.

"I just fed on you and the bloodlust can be quite… overwhelming," he confessed. "I usually take care of it myself, but you did taste absolutely exquisite tonight, what can I say?"

That caught you off guard.

"What do you mean? Take care of…" your voice trailed off as realization hit you.

Oh.

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Don't act so surprised. You can feel it whenever I'm feeding, can't you?" He took another step back and only came to a halt once your back was pressed against the carved-wood wall. "There is only so much I can withstand with your delicious blood coursing through my body, darling."

You swallowed hard.

He was being particularly firm on his advances tonight. You were used to his occasional flirtatious remarks whenever he fed on you ever since the arrangement took place. However, this was bringing things to a whole new level.

One that you hadn't expected you'd reach ever again with him.

Somehow, you managed to find your voice. "Maybe you should stop feeding on me, then?"

A weightless taunt, obviously.

Crimson eyes darted all over your face as if studying you. He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, before the corner of his mouth curled into an intriguing smile.

He had seen immediately right through it.

"If that is what you wish, then so be it," he said in a rather dismissive tone, but still towering over you.

You arched a brow. "That's it?"

"Darling, as immortal as I am, I do not beg," he continued, now tracing around the fresh bite marks on your skin with uncharacteristic tenderness. "I will surely find other exquisite necks to sink my teeth into."

His words carried a hint of a threat, which unsettled you.

"That was not the arrangement, Astarion," you said with a scowl. "It's either wild animals or my blood."

His fingertips paused at your pulse point, and you were certain he could feel the throbbing increasing rapidly. "How possessive of you, my dear," he mused playfully. "Although, I am quite sure you are aware that many do carry fantasies with vampires."

You pressed your lips together in a silent reply.

A man as attractive as Astarion was bound to allure all sorts of attention. When passing through Moonrise Towers, the drow Araj had tried to have him bite her in exchange for a rather powerful potion, but you had assured him that you did not demand anything against his will.

The memory still left a sour taste in your mouth.

But he did have a point.

Vampires could be regarded as a taste of the forbidden, and he could certainly deliver it.

"That was not the arrangement," you repeated through gritted teeth, deciding to ignore his previous remark.

His eyes narrowed dangerously in an instant.

"'The arrangement'," he mocked, inching near and pinning you frozen against the wall with the weight of his burning stare. "Does dear Wyll know that I haven't been exclusively feeding on wild animals? Because that was the arrangement, darling," his face drew closer and his cool breath fanned your skin.

Upon becoming Duke of Baldur's Gate, Wyll had agreed to allow Astarion to reside within its walls, but not without assuring he posed no danger to others.

But then you decided to volunteer in aiding him until a solution to his vampiric condition could be found. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long to find something useful.

Your research had led to a couple of enchanted items, but those were rare to come by. A wish spell seemed to be the easiest way, but even as a sorcerer and with Gale's help, it would be extremely challenging.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "He does. He knows blood from thinking creatures sates you more effectively, so he allows it for the time being."

He scoffed, dropping his hand from your neck. "How very thoughtful of him, indeed."

"This is what friends do."

He sneered at you. "Friends do not hand out ultimatums. Care to revive my memory?" His lips almost brushed against yours and you didn't dare take a breath. "I am to wag my tail like an obedient pup as I wait for a solution to this minor inconvenience, all the while enclosed in a golden cage."

Impatience gripped your nerves ferociously. "These things take time, Astarion."

"Oh, my darling… I have all the time in the world, but you only have a limited supply of blood," he whispered softly and you could almost taste his taunting words.

He drew back slightly, his glare so intense you felt yours waver and drop, catching a glimpse of his sharp canines. "We are actively looking for a solution. Gale is also making some progress-"

He pressed a finger to your lips, effectively silencing you.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking I am faulting you," he said, his face suddenly softening, as he caressed your lower lip. "If anything, you are the only reason I was ever able to kill Cazador."

He was being sincere, and that was what made your heart drop to your stomach.

"You have my eternal gratitude."

You shuddered under his touch, feeling your breath quicke, as his other hand trailed down your neck until it was resting just above your left breasts and beating heart.

He was too good at this…

Unfairly so.

"Wyll ought to allocate more of his resources into aiding me, don't you think? After all, you are the one at risk here," he continued. "I know he cares not for me, but I could have ascended and bent Baldur's Gate to my will… if not for your intervention."

"I'm not at risk," you said with a roll of your eyes. "And if you drink more than what you need, then you know the consequences."

His eyes dropped to your cleavage as he began to caress the flushed skin. With each deep breath you took, you pushed more of your breasts into him, further igniting the heat between your legs.

"Promises, promises… unfortunately for you, darling, your words don't match your body."

Fuck you. "You're impossible."

He slowly dipped his head until his lips grazed yours. "You would stake me?"

Never.

"I would."

He chuckled. "You would stake me as I sink my teeth into your darling neck and feast on your divine blood?"

No. "Yes."

But his smile only widened as amusement settled on his face. "I can't think of a better way to part this world for good."

Your mouth parted slightly in surprise, and he rolled his hips into you, earning a soft gasp.

You half-expected him to finally take your lips, but he tilted his head instead to press a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.

And your body nearly imploded as old sensations resurfaced.

Fuck.

"You're so sweet…" he whispered with a sigh, as he began to graze along your jaw, taking your hands in his and planting them on his waist. "So warm… the gods above could never do you justice." He continued in between light kisses with his hips matching the pace.

As your eyes fluttered shut, you lost track of how eagerly your hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing impatiently against the waistband of his trousers.

Astarion groaned softly, helping you with the inconvenient lacing at the front. "And here I thought I was the starving one."

He always talked way too much and had a natural talent for doing so at the least opportune time.

"Can you shut up for once?"

"Gladly," he said as he quickly took your lips in his, muffling your groan of protest.

Reason told you to halt everything once. That you were taking things too fast, and that there was no need to indulge in such depravities.

But you had missed this.

You missed having him so close that he completely overtook your senses.

The kiss turned rougher and his tongue soon found yours. Instinct guided you as you succumbed to the vicious grip of desire, and you pressed yourself further into him.

It was almost embarrassing how wet you already were and how intensely your swollen clit was pulsing. Your body was already readying itself for him to be buried inside you, and you shuddered at the prospect of it.

Your tongue darted into his mouth and your eagerness had it glide across one of his sharp fangs, and you felt a sting of pain as you accidentally drew blood.

"Fuck," you grumbled, breaking the kiss at once.

The familiar taste of metal began to pool in your mouth, and you felt gentle fingers grip your jaw tight, as he titled your head back.

"I would apologise, but it was your own doing," he said with a smile, hunger in his eyes. "So let's not allow it to go to waste, hm?"

And then he pressed his lips against yours, immediately parting them with his experienced tongue, in search of the warm liquid he so badly craved.

The cut wasn't deep or wide enough to cause much to spill, but it was certainly enough for him to let out a beautiful moan of delight, as he lapped at your blood.

Your hands gripped the front of his trousers, the lacing now undone and offering you the opportunity to feel him, and he was kissing you so ardently, that your mind was completely clouded by all of him.

Testing the waters, you caressed his cock through the fabric.

He immediately parted from you to let out a delicious hiss, as he rolled his hips into the palm of your hand.

Astarion was incredibly hard, but just as you were about to slide it inside to grip him, he caught your wrist and held it firmly in place.

And everything halted all at once.

Your eyes found his, and he seemed… distant.

Concern washed over you. "Astarion?"

He was frozen, eyes fixed on the floor.

As he eased his grip on you, it became apparent that he wasn't listening to you.

Fuck.

You brought one hand to grip his shoulder. "Astarion…"

He shook his head lightly. "Give me a moment, darling."

The way the last word drawled out of his lips, made your heart clench violently. It was so instinctive for him, that you doubted he even realised he had uttered it.

You stood still, unsure of what to do to help.

The two of you remained silent for a few moments. You kept your hold on his shoulder, gently caressing it in an attempt to bring him some comfort.

Then you felt rage swirl in you.

Cazador had warped him in such a way and for so long, that the ramifications of his abuse on Astarion seeped so deep and gripped him so tight, causing you to feel nothing but anger.

You took a deep breath, and carefully placed your hands on either side of his face, slowly guiding him to meet your eyes.

He looked broken.

"I apologise."

You caressed his cool skin with your thumbs, shaking your head. "There is nothing to apologise for. Ever. Do you hear me?"

He tilted his head until his forehead touched yours. "I really wanted this."

Even though the two of you had grown apart over the past few weeks as he had distanced himself, you couldn't think of anyone else who had such a hold on you.

With one hand drifting along his soft curls, you pulled him further into a hug, which he promptly embraced, lacing his hands behind your back.

This was your Astarion.

The one who made it so easy to love and care for him.

"Sometimes what we want is not what we need."

His cheek was pressed to the side of your head and you heard a faint chuckle. "So poetic. I reckon Volo has competition."

"Your mind goes to Volo when holding me? Is there something you wish to tell me, Astarion?" you teased lightly.

He patted your back twice before letting go.

"Guilty as charged," he mused, slipping back into his usual antics.

He crossed the room, tying the laces of his trousers before plopping himself on the bed with a stretch of his arms.

"I'm sure you're exhausted. Maybe you should go back to that dullard friend of yours," he said with a sly grin.

His words hit you hard and your face dropped. "I can stay a little longer…"

He picked up the book next to him, examining the cover. "Whatever for? I'm perfectly fine, darling."

Now, this was not your Astarion.

Cold. Distant. Impenetrable.

The one who pushed you away whenever you attempted to bridge the gap that had come in between you two.

He focused his attention on the book in his hands and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Very well."

You composed yourself, and headed to the door, not even bothering to exchange another look.

"Thank you for the meal, and for… well, you know."

You nodded, feeling the overwhelming urge to just leave. "See you next week, then."

He didn't reply.

You rushed out of the room, feeling the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes, and you tried to convince yourself it was better off this way.

That he needed time and space.

That he didn't need you.

By the time you crossed the crowded lounge of the tavern, you crossed paths with that woman again.

She locked eyes with you, a faint smile curving her lips, as she rose to her feet from her chair, probably heading back to him.

She truly was a sight to behold, no doubt.

But what tore your heart was realising that, even after everything you'd been through with Astarion, he still favoured her company over yours.

Next chapter

Masterlist . Series masterlist. AO3

#astarion smut #astarion #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion x mc

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sweetiecutie · 7 months

Text

Part five: strap on 🩷 Kinktober Masterlist 🩷

Pairing: Valeria Garza x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, strap on, overstimulation, mommy kink, lesbians in love

- Aw, what’s the matter hermosa? Is it too much for you to take? - Valeria tutted at your squealing, her fingers gripping your thighs even harder, blunt nails leaving bright semi-circles on your skin. Her hips snapped hard against yours, 7 inch strap burying deep inside your raw pussy, silicone tip of was nudging your poor cervix, causing a small bulge to appear on your tummy.

- Can’t… Can’t take more mommy, - you whined, writhing in her tight grip. She’s been at it for hours, holding your legs opened wide, fucking you into a babbling senseless mess, wringing one orgasm out of you after another. Your whole body shook with intensity of pleasure, toes curling every time Valeria shoved all of her length in your sopping cunt, your juices covering her lower stomach, causing bronze skin glisten wetly.

- It’s up to me wether you can take more or not, - her stern voice boomed, dominant tone she uttered these words with made your cunny clench desperately around thick shaft, eyes rolling back into your skull as it grazed all the sweetest spots inside of you repeatedly. - Look at you, so pretty on mommy’s strap. You’ve been thinking about this whole day, haven’t you? Sending me those photos like a needy little bitch, just wanting me to destroy you completely.

You only managed to nod your head, too cockdrunk to form a coherent sentence. You did feel needy, thinking that sending Valeria a few nudes in that sexy new set you got recently was a good idea. Well, it worked all too well - her bending you over first flat surface in your house seconds after finally getting back home, nimble fingers scissoring your drooling pussy open before fucking her biggest strap inside of your greedy warmth, making you purr and squeal under your wife’s rough touch.

Valeria reached for your tits, grabbing a handful of soft pudge, cruel fingers twisting your nipple out, mixing slight pain into concoction of pleasure, turning your brain into thoughtless mush. Her other had was busy bullying your swollen clit, each swipe of calloused fingertip against exposed tip sent electric shocks running up and down your spine, setting your nerves alight. Your back arched off soft mattress, hands gripping onto now messy sheets, needing something to hold onto.

- Fuck, mami, gonna cum! Can I please cum? Please… - you wailed, a heavy feeling setting in the pit of your stomach, thick strap ramming in and out of you along with Valeria’s relentless abuse on your clit drew you closer to your orgasm. Your eyes watered with tears of pleasure as you gazed up at Garza, a smug smirk curled her lips as black eyes studied your every smallest feature intently.

- Yes, you can cum, - she said finally, her voice a bit breathy from exertion with which she was fucking you. And with that a dam broke - thick pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, subduing all the colors and sounds around, only leaving place for pure euphoria to ripple through your veins.

Valeria fucked you through your high, prolonging it as much as she could, trying to burn your precious expression in her brain, sexy sounds of your release made her heart beat faster with excitement. As you slowly came back to your senses a satisfied grin made its way onto your flushed face; you puckered out your lips indicating that you wanted a kiss, in which Valeria gladly indulged.

There really wasn’t anything else Valeria needed - all she has ever longed for was here, laying underneath her and giggling at her in post-coital giddiness, causing Garza’s cold soldier heart to skip a beat at intensity of her adoration for you.

But well, maybe pulling one more orgasm out of you would make Valeria even happier?

#valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x you #valeria garza x reader smut #valeria garza smut #valeria el sin nombre garza #el sin nombre #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #cod mwf2 #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod smut

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shroombloomm · 4 months

Text

so high.

cw: degradation, size kink, praising, hair pulling, mention of drugs (weed.), and sexual content.

pairing: drug dealrry/baldrry x mc.

The cold night held thick air, still in the darkness as Jules drove one handed down the road. A blunt between her lips, she knew this would be the last of her stash until she went to see her dealer. The thing about her dealer, though, was that he was consistently fucking busy. It was always so hard to get a hold of him, so she either had to buy in large amounts or she had to start texting him at least a week before she was going to run out.

The schedule worked out perfectly this time around, just as she was running out of weed, he had texted her to come through to reup. So Jules did just that, smoking the last of what she had while on the way to his house. The soft acoustic tunes trilled through the stereo, humming along to a song she just found online not many days ago. She didn’t know the words, but she liked it.

Her pointer finger and thumb pinched the skin of the blunt, taking the last puff and inhaling deeply into her lungs. Jules held it as long as she could before she started to cough up a lung. Smoke bellowed from her nose as she rolled the window down and threw the butt out with ease.

Ahead, there was the house she grew familiar with. The front porch lit up to welcome her, she pulled into the driveway and threw the car into park. When Jules stepped out of the car, a cloud followed after her. She couldn’t help but to chuckle, knowing the entire neighborhood was going to know what she was doing prior.

On the front porch, she knocked and waited. After a few moments, she contemplated pulling her phone out to text him. It was bitterly cold and the sweater she wore was not giving her enough warmth.

“One sec!” He shouted from the other side of the door.

Jules pushed herself off of the wall, crossing her arms over her cold chest. When the door opened, she locked eyes with her dealer, Harry.

“It’s about time,” She joked lightly as he moved to the side to let her in, “It’s cold outside.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, doll,” Harry sighed, closing the door behind her, “I was smoking in the other room.”

Despite knowing that, there was still a thick haze at the top of the ceiling. Jules chuckled, shaking her head. She sat down on the couch, letting out a relaxed sigh. Harry rounded the coffee table, kneeling down in front of her; Harry was styling a bald look with bright blonde hair, a loose black sweater on with black pants. A cross earring dangled from his right ear to match the same necklace around his neck.

“That’s alright,” Jules hummed, “How have you been?”

“Been fine,” Harry mumbled, taking a bag of weed from underneath the table and setting it onto the glass top, “How much are you wanting this time?”

“With the way you reply, let’s say a quarter this time.” She smirked softly.

Harry bit down on his tongue as his lips quirked upwards into a smoke, “Cheeky.”

Harry and Jules weren’t strangers, they were actually really good friends. When she started to smoke in high school, Harry was the only one that she knew to get from. He was the dealer of the school, but of course that was very hush hush. She’d remembered when she first smoked with him on top of a bridge, overseeing a busy road.

Truthfully, Jules had always found Harry a bit attractive. There was an instance in high school where her pick me friend had basically outed her feelings for Harry. At that time, Harry was in a relationship with one of the popular girls; which was funny because historically, Harry couldn’t fucking stand any of the popular girls.

But, lord, did he fucking love Naomi.

So, in truth, Jules never really dated anyone because she had always had eyes for Harry. Sure, she had eyes on a few people throughout the years, she was an adult now and she didn’t want to get caught up on an old crush from some years ago. Jules had dated multiple men throughout the years that never truly satisfied her needs, plus they weren’t really down with her constantly smoking weed.

It wasn’t that weed was a crutch, it definitely wasn’t. Jules used it for her anxiety and depression. A lot of people didn’t understand that.

But Harry understood that.

“Did you want to smoke before you go?” Harry threw a baggy towards her, “That’s gonna be sixty, by the way.”

Jules pulled her wallet from her purse, shuffling through her bills before placing the exact amount onto the table and taking the plastic bag.

“I just smoked, but I wouldn’t say no,” Jules broke into a smile, putting the weed into her tote bag.

“You’re just so greedy, aren’t you, Jules?” Harry teased her as he plucked a wrap from one of the packages, “How’s work been?”

“It’s been fine, really,” Jules let her cheek rest on her hand as she watched Harry clear the cigar of its tobacco, “And I guess business is going fine with you?”

Harry hummed, nodding to her. His thumbs brushed against the wrap to flatten it, sticking his tongue out to lap up the inside of it. Jules’ lips parted, her tongue sticking out to swipe her bottom lip. Entranced by the small action, her cheeks heated up. She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat.

“It’s been fine, yeah,” Harry finally said, swallowing the peach flavor of the wrap, “Sorry I’ve been too busy to get with you. Maybe we can plan something soon, y’know?”

“I’m down for whatever,” Jules shrugged.

Harry sprinkled the weed into the wrap, then proceeded to roll it carefully. While he rolled it up, his lips worked onto the wrap, his tongue poking out to lap the wrap up to keep it firm. This had reminded her of the time that she smoked with him on that bridge, watching him work on the blunt; it was such a simple action, but the fire still sparked inside of her.

It was something about not being able to have something that she desperately always wanted. Maybe her crush from the past was starting to spark inside of her again, or maybe it was the thought of his head between her legs that made her want him. If his tongue could work wonders on the blunt, commanding it to stick delicately together just for him to burn it later, then she’d wondered what kind of trouble they could’ve gotten into together.

“Here,” Harry said as he pinched his lips with his pointer finger and thumb, handing the blunt, “You can spark it. I’m gonna get a couple of drinks. Do you want anything?”

“Erm, water?” Jules placed the blunt between her lips.

“Can do.”

She dug through her pocket for her lighter, then flicked the flame alive to light the blunt. From the earlier blunt, her throat was dry and she was desperate for something to coat her throat. She coughed lightly into her fist, staring down at the perfect pearl of the blunt. When Harry came back with a couple bottles of water, he placed it down on the table in front of her and sat undeniably close to her.

“Can I have that, please?” Harry’s two fingers wiggled towards the blunt.

“Mm, yes.” She handed the blunt to him.

Leaning forward, she grabbed the bottle of water and twisted the top off. The coolness of the water hydrated her and brought her back to life. She drank almost half of the bottle before sitting it down on the table and turning her gaze back to Harry.

Harry’s head was tilted back against the couch, eyelashes long and fluttering until his eyes closed. His cherry lips wrapped around the blunt, cheeks hollowing as the blunt burned bright red from his inhale. The smoke entered Harry’s lungs, and Jules was entranced as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he pulled the blunt from his lips.

She almost blushed, she couldn’t stop staring at him. Harry still held the blunt, bringing his hand down to his thigh as his leg bounced from keeping the smoke inside his lungs. A breath of release and a large cloud flooded the area. The edge of his jaw could cut, perfectly slim and simple as his mouth stayed wide open to let out the smoke.

When Harry turned towards her to pass the blunt, he caught her staring. Jules quickly turned her head, looking ahead towards the TV that she could barely hear; the volume was down low. Jules hated that, she wished that it wasn’t so quiet, if Harry stopped for a moment, he could probably hear the way her heart picked up when he caught her staring.

“Here,” Harry brushed her thigh with his hand, sending a soft wink, “Take it.”

When Jules felt his fingers brush her thigh, it was undeniable that her body reacted temperature wise. Sure, smoking could make someone much warmer, but she felt fucking hot in this sweater. Obviously, it was due to him, but she would never say that out loud.

“Have you ever shotgunned before?” Harry said through his sip of water, his voice was lazier from the intoxication of the weed; each word dripped and oozed slowly from his lips.

“Yeah,” She snorted nervously, “I have.”

When she took another hit, she looked towards him and blew the smoke out. The silence was deafening and she wished there was some sort of noise to distract her from the way his eyes burned into her. Her gaze went to the blunt.

“Do you want to shotgun?” Jules hesitantly asked, her voice shaking under the thought of potentially getting that close to Harry.

Harry chuckled quietly, removing the blunt from her fingers, his cherry lips wrapped tightly around the end of the blunt as he sucked in a loud cloud of thick smoke. When the wrap left his lips, a small cloud of smoke escaped past his lips, but nonetheless, he still held the remnants in his lungs. His fingers curled towards her, motioning her to move closer.

Jules didn’t have much time to think, the longer he held the smoke in his lungs, he would surely choke on it and have a coughing fit. Her body scooted towards him, to which his arm snaked around her shoulder; she felt his fingers caress the back of her neck as he leaned in. His tobacco vanilla scent infiltrated her nose, causing her cheeks to warm and her head to become dizzy at how intoxicatingly delicious he had smelled.

When Jules locked eyes with Harry, she studied the way his eyes were different shades of red, she could barely make out the dark green in his eyes. He was heavily intoxicated by the weed, but so was she, and she couldn’t rip her gaze from his eyes. He blinked once, moving in dangerously closer, while his fingers pinched the back of her neck.

She parted her lips just as Harry nodded upwards to her, his Adam’s apple bobbing from still holding in the thick smoke. What seemed like a lifetime, only lasted seconds. The shadows casting over her were due to Harry’s face being mere inches away from her lips, if she had moved her lips just the slightest, they could’ve locked with his.

Harry’s nose nudged with hers, then settled on one side of her face as his lips parted and circled into a pretty ‘O’, then slowly, surely, blew the smoke into her mouth. Jules inhaled as much as she could, feeling the burning sensation down her throat until it started to strain her lungs. Eyes fluttered closed for mere seconds, and when she opened them, the overcast of Harry had departed; no longer being clouded by the cologne of his. Still, she blew out a nervous breath as the ghostly smoke barely spilled from her lips.

“Shit,” She coughed lightly into her hand, leaning towards her water bottle for coating.

“I’ve always loved shotguns,” Harry told her with his lips quirked upwards into a smirk. He shamelessly liked making Jules flushed and nervous; she was a shy girl anyway, and sometimes he wondered just how shy she could be. Or if it was a cute girl facade. Regardless, he enjoyed the way she avoided eye contact after their mere contact, “Alright?” He chuckled quietly.

“Me?” Jules still tried to remedy the burning sensation in her throat, but she feared this was no real way to remedy the other burning sensation that rested between her thighs.

“Who else would I be talking to, Jules?” He tilted his head, resting his hand on top of the small hairs of his head, brushing his fingers over the buzzcut of his, “A ghost?”

“You’re high enough,” She joked, giggling as she sat her bottle on the table, “I wouldn’t put it past you to see some shit.”

While Harry wasn’t hallucinating, he had to take a second glance at the way her thighs were clenched tightly together and her gaze was forced to the TV with a flustered smile. Harry enjoyed watching the impact he had on others, even if it meant it being his best friend. Truthfully, it crossed his mind a couple of times what Jules would look like underneath him. She was peachy cute, quiet, and chill. Just like he was.

If Harry were to hook up with anyone, it would be with her. He was sure they would click so easily together.

“What’re you staring at?” Jules finally broke the silence, catching his lustful stare that hid behind the glossy look in his eyes.

“What do you think I’m staring at?” Harry mumbled, lips taught upwards with a smirk as he placed the half smoken blunt into the ashtray, “Here’s a hint, it’s not a ghost.”

She pushed her lips to the side, trying to ignore the bubbling in her stomach. Jules knew that answer to that question, but she didn’t want to get ahead of herself. She didn’t know if it was the weed, or if the tension had just appeared, thick in the air.

“I don’t…” Her voice trailed off, mousey and quiet.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

The words floated in the air, not giving her enough time to react to the compliment, or to the sudden fact that she was getting hit on by one of her good friends. Her drug dealer. Someone she had a crush on for a long fucking time. The air around them became thicker when another body brushed up against hers, glancing out of the corner of her eye, Harry had moved closer to her.

Silence filled the air. She dared not to fully look, if she wanted to bite down on the goofy smile on her face and hide it away from him, she shouldn’t look over. She wouldn’t. She won’t. But Harry’s stare was burning into the side of her face and it made her want to sink into the couch and never come back up.

“So shy all of a sudden?” Harry’s breath hit her ear and her breath hitched. His cherry lips parted softly, using the pads of his fingers to brush against the jawline of hers. When she didn’t turn her head to look at him, he wondered if he had mistaken the tension; if he was just high, or did she really want him like he wanted her in that moment?

“Is this okay?” Harry asked quietly, bushy brows furrowing in deep concern of the blurred lines.

That made Jules turn her head. She couldn’t tell if Harry was joking or not, if he was just trying to test their friendship, or if he really wanted her like she did. Jules parted her lips softly, her tongue swiping across the dryness of her lips as she locked into his dark gaze. She only gave him a small nod.

“Words, darlin’,” He cupped the underside of her jaw, tapping her lips lightly with his thumb, “Let me hear those words.”

Jules swallowed thick, trying to keep her eyes from closing just from the smallest touch; yet it sparked her skin and set her alight in ways she hadn’t felt in so long.

“Mhm, yes,” She whispered soft as a feather.

Harry licked over his lips, studying the features of her flustered expression. Her brows were slightly pinched together, thighs clenching and unclenching together, and her bottom lip threatened to quiver. His thumb traced over her bottom lip once more, dragging it to the side before sliding his thumb down to pull the lip down.

Boundaries weren’t tricky, yet they were walking a fine line on their friendship. That didn’t matter, not when they were high, not when they were both wanting the same thing at the moment. The warmth of Jules' mouth had taken his thumb into his mouth. Harry’s eyes blew wide in surprise, yet not very. Somewhere deep inside of her, she was not shy, and Harry knew if he pushed her enough she would show the side where she could let the little devil come out of her and play.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry chuckled quietly, shifting his hips on the couch as he gave her a small once over, “It’s like that then, huh?”

This new found confidence in her dazed mind, and Harry’s reaction, was enough for her to push the boundaries and see how far they could walk this line before they both toppled over it together. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, steading his movements, as her tongue started to slowly trail around his thumb. Hollowing her cheeks and sucking it deeply, showing off the skills that Harry desperately wanted to test.

“Naughty little minx,” Harry commented, trying to ignore the half chub in his briefs that grew from anticipation. Maybe the lines didn’t exist at all, maybe the lines were a made up rule, or maybe it was a rule that didn’t apply to them; either way, Harry still pumped his thumb in and out of her mouth and pressed down on her tongue just to hear her gag.

The taste of his thumb satisfied her, but she wondered what other parts of him tasted like. Many nights she laid awake, wondering, thinking; dreaming of him growing inside of her mouth. Jules knew she could satisfy him, she was confident about that. One small pop sounded between them, Harry’s thumb now cold as the air hit it, and Jules’ mouth still watering and awaiting more, deeply in anticipation.

“Kiss me.”

Those two words, shattering the tension in the air within seconds. Jules’ couldn’t believe the words that left her. A weight lifted off of her, but another weight brushed against her chest instead. Harry’s fingers were wrapped around her throat, taking her bottom lip into her mouth to taste the sweet indica they had smoked earlier. His lanky body pressed against hers, the sweater giving a facade of bulk, yet when she reached out to touch his hip, it was petite.

He assaulted her lips in a feverish kiss, bruising her bottom lip between his bunny teeth as he bit on it, pulling on it, and sucking it harshly while his fingers pinched the skin around her throat lightly. The fire inside the both of them were only fueling the flames much higher than before; the room burned with fumes of euphoria and lust, rolling each other up and smoking each other to become addicted to the pleasure they could offer each other.

Letting off her lips, she inhaled sharply at the realization that this was, in fact, really happening. Every part of her wanted to take off her clothes, but slow and steady always won a race; one that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to win.

“You taste so sweet,” Harry’s voice rasped out in a sharp breath while his lips continued to kiss around her neck, his hand resting on her shoulder as he squeezed it tightly to ignore the throbbing in his pants, “Fuck, I want more of you,” His tongue lapped up the side of her neck, nibbling on the supple skin.

“Shit,” She hissed at the feeling of his bites and kisses. Jules couldn’t refrain from anchoring her body down against his, letting her legs open. Harry caught the hint, nessling between her thighs and pressing himself tightly against her front as he bit down harder on her neck, “Fuck! H-Harry–,” A choke of moans blurted from her.

“Want to taste more of you,” He mumbled against her skin, “Won’t you let me? I know you must be fuckin’ soaked.”

“Mmmph,” Jules almost choked on the thick swallow, feeling his hardened member pressed tight against her front. She wasn’t sure how long she could take the foreplay, even if it just started; she knew that the moment Harry touched her, she would fight her for life not to come too soon, “I want that,” She whimpered, “I want to feel your mouth on me.”

Harry’s large hands pushed up the sweatshirt that she wore, and she accompanied him in taking off her top. He awed at the sight of her body, leaning down to kiss the valley of her chest while his hand traced over the top of her breast; giving it a hard squeeze, he kept his lips on her skin until he hit her belly button while letting his body slink down.

“Your body is so fuckin’ hot,” He mumbled softly, giving the button on her pants a kind kiss before undoing them, “Can’t wait to see the rest of you. Taste the rest of you.”

Her chest was rising and falling under the anticipation, watching as Harry peeled her pants off of her and exposed the white laced thong she wore. Harry smirked wide, creating dimples in her skin as he kissed her inner thigh, letting out a hum of appreciation.

“This is a sight to see,” Harry taunted, parting his lips as his two fingers swiped up the front of her underwear, a beautiful trace of arousal lightly coating his fingers, “Wet. Just as I suspected,” He teased, then stuck his tongue out to lap up the arousal, it was light and sweet, almost making his head dizzy from the taste, “Tell me something, Jules,” his thumb placed the swollen pearl of hers, flicking his dark gaze up to her, “How long have you been this wet for me? Be truthful with me and I’ll make sure to take care of you, darlin’.”

There was a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, the temperature in the room had heightened by what seemed like a million degrees. Her throat was dry, continuously swallowing the saliva. Jules’ eyes fluttered down to Harry, tongue barely poking out to wet her lips.

“A while,” Her voice shook, flicking upwards into exasperation as his thumb started to circle around the swollen clit of hers, “F-Fuck, that feels really good.”

“Wonder how long you’ve been wanting this,” He teased softly, moving in closer between her legs, his breath hot on her clit as he spoke, “If you’ve been dying for this scene. Me, between your pretty thighs, eating your pretty little cunt.”

Words, they weren’t available to her. Jules’ drew a blank in her mind, and just as she opened her mouth to respond, a long drawn out moan escaped instead. Harry’s tongue pressed hard against her clit, his two fingers pushing her panties to the side as his tongue began to flick upwards between her slick folds. Describing the feeling of being ate out while high on weed was almost impossible to her, the feeling was so intense that she could barely keep her hips still.

But Harry helped her with that, of course, he was a lovely gentleman and wanted to get the job done. His free hand made sure to hold one side of her hip down. The warmth of his mouth was enough for her stomach to swirl and her thighs shake, the tip of his tongue teasing the arousal between her folds as it dripped down onto his chin, then using just the tip to circle carefully around the swollen flesh that needed it the most.

She was in heaven, or maybe a made up heaven that her mind made her see. Either way, she was in the clouds of pleasure. Jules’ back arched upwards as her hand went to his head, fingers curling into the buzzcut, just for her fingernails to dig deeply into the palm of her hand. A gasp, a moan, a whimper, a plead.

His tongue was working magic, but when his fingers plunged into her hole, she let out a mere cry that made her thighs close around his head. Harry chuckled deeply, removing his head from her thighs while he pumped his fingers and out of her at a steady pace. He watched as her body withered underneath him, face scrunched in pleasure, while she silently pleaded for him in short breathed curses.

“How can I let you cum if you close your legs, pretty girl?” Harry coo’d softly, using his hand to force her thigh back down, “Is it too much, hm? Can barely take two fingers f’me?”

Jules’ whimpered, trying to relax her legs enough to make room for him.

“It–it feels so–good,” She breathed out as her eyes rolled back into her head, trying to catch her breath.

Harry curled his fingers into her cunt, watching her body react to him.

“I know, darlin’, I know,” His voice was laced in fake sympathy as he dipped back down between her legs, “And I’m gonna take such good care of you, too. Just need you to be a good girl for me.”

When Jules felt his tongue back on her flesh, it was merely over for her. She was approaching her first orgasm of the night, something inside of her was telling her this wasn’t going to be the last one either. One of her legs hooked around Harry’s neck as she brought him closer, his tongue assaulting the swollen flesh at a quicker pace, while her moans and whimpers echoed through the living-room.

A long drawn out whimper of his name escaped her, then silenced her as euphoria flooded her veins. Stomach tightening, her body froze as she drenched Harry’s chin. His tongue slowed its pace, but still relentlessly rode her orgasm out until she was pushing her body away from him from the burning sensation of the over sensitive area.

Harry’s head popped up from between her legs, chin glistening with her arousal, and a lopsided smile on his lips. Jules looked so fucked out of her mind, chest rising and falling while she tried to catch her breath. He rubbed her thigh slowly, leaning down to kiss down the valley of her chest once more, then the top of her breast.

“I’m not done with you yet, Jules,” He mumbled against her skin, “Need to bury my cock inside of you, hm?”

“Mmmh, yeah,” Jules nodded her head softly.

“Mhmm, I know, honey,” Harry coo’d as his fingers hooked underneath the string of her thong, pulling it down her legs and flicking them to the floor.

Jules unhooked her bra as Harry took his sweater off. They both discarded their clothes to the side. Harry’s lanky body had carved parts that were prominent, his hips making a sharp V line that disappeared down to his pubic bone, complimenting the ferns that looked so pretty between the sweet happy trail of his that disappeared into his pants.

She couldn’t not notice the veins in his hands as he undid his belt. Flexing, twitching until his fingers wrapped tightly around the belt and pulled it off with a loud snap. The sight made her mouth water; remembering the one time that she had ever seen him shirtless, but this was different. This was intimate, this was for her; he was hers, just for the night.

When he removed his pants, his thick cock sprung from his briefs. Pretty and complemented by the bush of pubes around his member, red and angry, yet soft and pink in some places. Harry’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking down the veins that displayed across his cock as he took in the sight below him; Jules body, beautiful and all his, perfect in the ocean waves of her hips and clouds of her supple breasts.

“Gonna take my cock f’me?” Harry drew out in a half moan, tracing his hand up the back of her thigh as he brought her ankle to his shoulder and held it there. It took everything inside of him not to shove himself inside of her already, but he needed to know she was ready; which Jules very much was.

“Fill me up,” She begged in small whines, reaching out to touch the carved V line of his, fluttering her eyes, “Stretch me out and fuck me dumb, please?”

Fucking hell, Harry thought to himself as his eyes rolled back into his head.

“ ‘M not one to disappoint,” He licked over his lips, tapping his cock against her cunt softly, watching as his tip lathered around her arousal through her slick folds, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re fucked dumb.”

The tip of his cock brushed against her wet cunt once more, hips steady as he pushed forward. She was fucking wet, but still tight around his cock. His thick girth stretched her out in ways that she hadn’t had anyone do before; yet he was doing it. Stretching her out and making her body crumble underneath him. Harry let out a string of curses under his breath as he leaned over her, one hand on the couch, curling his fingers into the fabric just as his bottomed out to the hilt.

“That’s good, taking my cock so good,” Harry breathed out, a growl vibrating through his throat as he pulled his hips back, just to snap them harshly against her, earning a moan from her, “Fuck, just like that. Y’sound so fuckin’ heavenly.”

Jules whimpered underneath him, wrapping her one leg around his hip and bringing him closer. The shadow of his sharp jawline casted over her as he nearly hid his face into his arm in pleasure. Thrusting, hearing the sounds of skin to skin, arousal meshing, their moans intertwining in the room and spinning in the air together. Harry’s hand cupped one of her breasts, parting his lips as he caught her mouth with his.

Jules used her hand to cup his cheek as she overtook him in the kiss. His tongue lapped messily around her bottom lip, to which hers met his, rubbing against each other as they made out feverishly. Sucking lips, moaning into each other’s mouths, and Harry’s hips messily snapping against hers. His head was burning with the warmth wrapped around his cock, her cunt barely accommodated his cock, which made Harry work that much harder to fuck her.

All while desperately trying not to fucking bust. He needed to slow down, or it would’ve been over in seconds. It was almost not fair. Something he desperately wanted in the moment, being ripped away by his shortcomings. If he could make it a few more minutes with her tight cunt wrapped around him, he’d be considered a winner.

Harry broke the kiss, leaning down as his lips perfectly wrapped around her nipple and his tongue slowly licked at the skin, eyes shut closed. She had never come from nipple play before, but her core was nearly flooded and throbbing with pleasure. Harry gazed up at her in wonder, the noises she made made his cock drip with each mewl. Ever so often, she would go back to grinding, but the way he worked her nipple had made her go still. It was like she couldn’t bear to move. If she moved, she would certainly cum.

Her fingers digging into the couch, and her nose resting at the top of his forehead, she begged him for more. Small pants and breaths left her as she ground her hips against his cock, toes curling as she whined to herself. The pleasure was so much that she wanted to fucking cry from how good it felt.

“Keep sucking them, p-please, p-please don’t stop–” She nearly cried.

With each kitten lick, she drenched Harry’s cock, only making him more proud of the way he made her feel. The adrenaline rushing through him, the pleasure, it was blinding; having such a gorgeous thing laid out in front of him, and getting the honor to have her.

But, he wanted more too.

Adjusting his hips, he slowly, painfully, thrusted his cock up into her–the slow pace was enough to make her cry. Tears welled against her waterline as she bit down onto her knuckle, her orgasm was slowly inching more and more.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she buried her face into his shoulder. He let off her nipple, kissing up her breast slowly as he nuzzled his face into her neck, continuing to thrust up into her. The sudden emptiness made Jules mewl out in desperation, only for Harry to grab her hair and force her to her hands and knees.

“Look at you shaking, can barely take my cock, ” Harry breathed out, slapping his cock against her ass with a huff, “So pathetic, I fucking love it. Watching you like this. Never thought I’d see the day you’d cry over how good I fuck you.”

“F-fuck…you,” Jules whined quietly, closing her eyes as she pressed her ass against his cock.

Harry sat pretty on his knees behind her ass, his cock in his hand as he slowly pushed back into her pretty hole. He let out a guttural moan, tilting his head back with his Adam’s apple bobbing as he continued to buck his hips in and out of her.

“Trust me, baby, I will.”

He grunted out, thumb trailing down to her hole, rubbing it in circles as his hips snapped against her skin harshly.

“God, I fucking love your ass,” He hissed out, “So fucking thick. So full. Gorgeous, really.”

“P-Please…” She whispered.

“I know, baby,” He chuckled out, taking both hands as he spread her cheeks apart, then shook them carefully. Spreading them apart, he could get a full view of how his cock slid in and out of her. It made his spine shiver.

She grumbled, hiding her face as the euphoria nearly sent her over the edge of an orgasm. Harry hollowed his cheeks, then spat onto her other hole before rubbing the wetness around it slowly.

“You like that?” He taunted.

“Y-Yeah, please keep rubbing it, feels really good,” She whimpered with a beg as she looked back at him. Harry smirked wide, snapping his hips to burrow his cock deep into her.

“Keep talking like that and we’ll have to switch holes, darlin’.”

Jules could barely hold it together, her cunt dripped around his girth as he stretched her out. It was impossible not to come, but she needed to make this last; each thrust was contradicting her thoughts, his tip brushing against her spot delicately, making her thighs clench and voice mewl out in long, sultry moans while his fingers dug into her ass.

Harry slowly pulled out of her, letting out a half broken moan as he fell back onto his ass. Jules, utterly fucked, looked from behind her as Harry patted his lap and curled his fingers in a come hither motion.

“Come ride me, dollface.” Harry mumbled, fucked.

His thighs were toned tight, the way he looked with his thighs spread and chest heaving up and down; glistening with sweat, Jules moved herself into his lap and pressed her mouth against his into a hard kiss. Harry grabbed her jaw, handling his aching cock underneath her as she eased down onto it once more. Her hands found his chest, curling into his skin as she felt his thick girth fill her back up, her mouth opened against his as she mewled out a desperate moan.

“Gonna sit still for me, let me do all the work for you, yeah?” Harry brushed the stray hairs from her forehead, kissing the underside of her jaw as he rocked his hips back and forth.

Her stomach was burning, thighs shaking from the tip of his cock grazing her spot with each thrust. She placed a hand against the back of the couch, panting out as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Harry cupped her breast, slowly kissing it as he whispered sweet praises to her.

“I said sit still,” His voice was firm, yet sweet, his jaw clenched as he felt her walls pulse around his cock. She let out a soft whine, clutching his forearms tightly. Jules was close, there was no denying it anymore, she would surely spill on him any time soon.

“It feels–god!” She cried out, pinching her eyes shut tightly. Harry chuckled darkly, one of his hands roaming to the back of her neck to grasp the roots of her hair. “Just like that—,”

“Be a good girl and shut up f'me, okay? Tongue out,” He used his other finger to tap her lips slowly. She whimpered, doe eyes glued down to him as she poked her tongue out slowly. He smirked, forcing her head to come closer before sliding her tongue past his lips.

He sucked her tongue, massaging his own against it before flicking and kitten licking it carefully. At the same time, the force of his thrusts rocked through her, harder, faster, Harry was peaking in his own orgasm. Her stomach was on fire, feeling like she was going to explode into a million pieces. Harry’s hand slowly roamed up to her stomach, past her belly button and to her nipples.

His two fingers pinched, twisted and flicked at them as his other hand took her hip and made her grind against his cock at a quicker pace. She cried out, nearing tears as pants left her. Harry felt her pussy start to become drenched, her walls throbbed in agony as it signaled that they were both reaching heaven, right where they wanted to be.

Taking a handful of her breasts, he squeezed it harshly. He started to buck his hips up into her cunt. Her fingers dug into his skin, eyes rolling back into the back of her head as her stomach began to twist for the second time this night. Mewling out, her head tilted back from the pure bliss that filled her veins.

Jules’ forehead rested against his, pleaing, whining, only ultimately to be given what she had wanted in the first place. Harry smirked, letting go of her tongue before taking her hips into his hands and watched as she fell apart on his cock.

His attention to her details, her body moving with each twitch and cry, and the beautiful feeling that overcame his cock; he let out a throat ripping moan right as he orgasmed deeply inside of her, just as she finished the same time. They held each other tightly, breaths staggered and tired as they relished in their high, just to come down from it moments later.

“Fucked dumb, baby?” He chuckled out.

“So fucked dumb.” Jules whispered back to him.

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