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#sunday drabbles
anantaru · 1 month
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HSR + HOT THINGS HE DOES WHILE DOING IT
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— ꒰ including ꒱ — aventurine, dr ratio, sunday, boothill x fem! reader
— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, dom hsr characters, oral (fem! receiving) & fingering, established relationship, hitting it raw, dirty talk, tit play + biting & marking, prone bone ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ
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— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + shamelessly moans into your ears
his moans have that kind of power that attack you with the lightest bit of touch but rumble inside your nerves with an utmost generosity that continued to burn an everlasting need into the rigid twist of your belly. he flips you over to your stomach and kneads the handful of flesh on your ass, greedily as his hands retreat— now, he uses his hand to keep your hips sealed against his aching half, while the other was positioned next to your head to refrain his weight from leaning and crushing against you.
aventurine's mouth was hot against your ear, too hot, in fact, that your body manifests swells of electric jumps on your limbs and muscles, your blood thrumming as you're audibly hissing out petulant sobs through your slacked jaw.
"tell me how it feels, yeah?" he sighs between gritted teeth, savoring the anticipation as his eyes squeeze shut, hips aligned and drawing his oozy tip against your entrance before pressing into your hole.
"ugh, fuck—" he grunts, "you'll mess me up today, hm?" as he moans deeply into your ear, so grateful to you as you shakily exhale through your mouth, your hole melting around his thick shaft before he inches further through your plushy walls.
aventurine was unashamed of gasping out those lecherous noises for you, brazen to the point where he's telling you how you feel as you squeeze him and cloud his mind with your milking compression indulging in him, "aah— you feel so nice, so soft, i'm losing my mind," he cheekily laughs between his whines, feeling elevated.
he kisses your neck as you sob, your walls feeling all of him inside as you exhale between a shaken embrace— but it's telling how much it turned you on when your boyfriend was this vocal with the pleasure you caused on him, his tongue darting across your neck before he loudly groans into the skin, your hole tensing and letting go, tensing and letting go, adding pressure again.
your eyes roll back as he grinds himself in you, always holding against your ass to fondle with the skin as he repeatedly pressures and pulls his cock through your creamy hole, entering all his inches inside an eager cuddle.
the sensation of having him claim your body in such way made your stomach do flips and tumbles, and the hums into your ear only multiplied the ways you responded to him with fizzy tears pulling at your lashes. right there, aventurine spills his brazen moans right against your ear, shamelessly between affectionate words of love, sending your inmost nerves into hard overdrive.
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— ꒰ DR RATIO ꒱ + pulls your face to him before you climax
before he advances forward to his original plan, veritas will make you feel like you're mounting off pleasure and ah, your silhouette was charming to look at, no? you're so sweet when you hide your face from him. yet he doesn't understand why you're so embarrassed to show your flustered state? regardless, he loves when you do that, hiding the real taste, doesn't matter if he's suckling on your clit or watching how you suck him off, you're always warding off his enticing gaze.
the tantalizing signs of your embarrassment were enough for dr ratio to focus on all the different regions of your body— not only that, but he inspects your breathing and how it shudders through you, not to mention how it hitches when he grinds into your cunt.
with that, he can determine that you prefer it faster, although mixed in with a couple slow grinds once he's sheathed himself fully inside. a combination of both can do a lot more, and channeling it into one was his speciality. you're making it just that easy for him.
you wonder why? well, it's because you make everything look so sexy that it's so easy to figure you out.
after finding the perfect tempo for the both of you, your warmth clamps around him before losing yourself in each precise, calculated push of his hips overloading from the feeling of being close to you, or ah, being one with you, correct? it's how you're throbbing and creaming his entire base full that he realizes you're right there, feeling an upcoming wave of pleasure making itself visible.
"i'm cumming, i'm, aah, fuck," you moan beneath his hypnotizing pair of eyes as his hips rush through you, spreading your poor, little cunt apart as your hole flexes around his shaft. veritas knew he had to be quick with it, so after hearing you sob and wince, he draws himself off your neck and cups your face roughly, casting his eyes on you.
the man was gorgeous and he knew it, much to your dismay— he could also be a total idiot about how annoyingly handsome he was and that he always knew how to use it to his benefit— although in this moment, his face was soused in his sweat, messed up around his forehead and covered with fizzling lust for you.
a strangled cry rips from your throat and vibrates through his eardrums as your body vividly shakes under him. you're whimpering at the embarrassment of having him look at you while he's forcing the eye contact with his hand bending around the softness of your cheek.
you had no idea how much of a difference it made to look at him and become so, vulnerable.
you squirm under his searing silhouette, crying out the most beautiful sounds as your sore hole twitching around the base, utterly spent as veritas only admires the glow in your eyes, nothing more and nothing else.
the two of you exhale shakily in your afterglow, wet skin clinging to the sheet and relishing in its dirtiness.
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— ꒰ SUNDAY ꒱ + kisses your clit before going down on you
he holds himself back, he needs to, because fighting the urge to bury his face where you needed him the most was always worth it— before he latches on your clit, he uses his rough thumbs to push the plushy skin protecting your clit aside to plant his plump lips over it, ghosting his mouth on top as he's almost successful enough to distract you from two digits bumping against your weeping hole.
sunday adjusts his face on your pussy before planting a wet kiss on your clit, his lusting eyes turning dark in the dark light as he roams two fingers inside your cloying hole, "give it to me, i know you can do it," he takes each necessary step to make you arch your back and gush all over him— your bothered silhouette making his cock ache and balls throb in his boxers.
his digits ascend over the slopes of your velvet walls as he presses delirious sensations on your cunt before spitting on your pussy repeatedly, messily grinning against your folds when you wince to every single droplet of his saliva hitting your cunt.
what doesn't come as a surprise is that sunday likes being messy with it— he needs to feel the wetness, the sheer contact of a hot tongue on your throbbing skin that he asks himself, can you feel it too? oh silly, of course you can, there was no room for debate by how you're reacting to it.
he swallows your arousal pooling on his tongue as he laps at your clit while his fingers graze along the sponginess of your walls, your pussy holding and clenching around the two digits. your eyes were half lidded, almost closed, your body so responsive that your cunt pulses at nothing but the tip of his tongue nudging into your clit.
"so obedient you are, my dear," he rasps before your fingers slope around the loose strands of his hair to press him into your heat, your back arching and your cunt spasming as you ride his face.
sunday hums happily, satiated, "what a good girl you are," he praises you enlaced in a wanton voice, thrusting his fingers roughly as you cum inside a silent cry.
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— ꒰ BOOTHILL ꒱ + teases you with his teeth
your saccharine alike face prompts a menacing grin from him as he settles you on his lap before tilting your head a little— his eyes drizzling into the space on your neck and how he could feel your heart beat from that precious spot. boothill tests the waters, his insatiable hunger for you being so painful as he sighs out excitedly. he grazes into your neck and drags the sharp edges through your sensitive skin— always holding you on his waist with one hand wrapped around while the other toyed with your soft tits.
boothill has everything under his control, okay? you needn't worry— in fact, he always tells you to not torment yourself when all you had to do was trust him with your pleasure.
a smile stretches across his face as he brazenly flattens his tongue against your neck, feeling your pulse thud on the wet muscle before squeezing your tits to mess up your focus. you cling to his strong shoulders as you arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his digits, "you like that, don't you?" he drawls, your moan bending when he pinches your tit again.
your eyes roll back, and ugh, it feels so good, his rough yet precise touches were capable to induce waves of sparks from your breasts to all the way down, hitting your aching pussy. you're humping against his thigh and drool, more so stain your panties with your slick. the swell of his bulge was heavily pressing against your clothed folds, and boothill knew it wouldn't take long until you'll beg him to fuck you.
alongside those mesmerizing touches that marked up your breasts, the man took his time and acted unhurriedly as he sucks on your neck, shielding his eyes as he dips his head right above your collarbones. your skin mists with drops of his saliva as you find his hair beneath your hands, tugging slightly at his strands.
boothill moans into your neck, the vibrations setting a fire on your wet core, "let me consume you..." you hear him murmur playfully, his sharp fangs tauntingly pressing into your neck as you arch your back, "pretty, mh, you're so good, so lovely, so pretty, and ugh," as he stammers, his tongue blazing wildly across the pulsing spot that he's bitten, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he calls your name.
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© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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draconic-desire · 1 month
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Yan!Aventurine who is willing to risk it all to make you his. Don’t underestimate the scope of his reach; with his connections and money, you’ll never be out of his hands for long, no matter how far you may run. He won’t take you immediately—no, he plays the long game and makes you sweat until you have no choice but to take the gamble and face him yourself. How much does it take for you to go all in, sweetheart?
Yan!Dr. Ratio who subtly gets in your head, wearing you down bit by bit. He’s part of the Intelligentsia Guild for good reason; this man knows exactly how to calculate every scenario and predict every outcome. Coaxing you closer and closer under his wing is like an experiment—how far can he push you before you realize him for what he is, before it’s too late for you to ever escape? Only the next test will tell.
Yan!Sunday who constantly manipulates everything about your life, down to the very last detail, behind the scenes. This man is the very definition of gaslight gatekeep (girlboss). If you rebel one too many times, you best believe he’ll whisk you away to his dreamscape manor, locked in never ending puzzles until you’re begging for him and his company.
Yan!Gallagher who is anything but what he appears. It’s child’s play for him to get close to you. Need someone to talk to over a stiff drink? How about someone to carry walk you home after you’ve had one too many (or did it taste a bit sweeter than the usual drinks he mixes for you?). Little do you know he’s been accumulating tidbits of all the things you like in a partner—he can be everything you’ve ever wanted, after all. Even if you have no choice.
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My personal vote is for Sunday. After seeing his (spoiler alert) huge mansion and the miniature Penacony park in the 2.1 patch, I immediately (like many others) thought about how he’s used that dreamscape to his advantage. Gallagher is a close second…for obvious reasons if you’ve played 2.1.
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xi-chan · 7 days
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omgggg the pet one you just posted is soooo cute can i request something with the same 3 and welt (if its not too much ♡) where their partner gets turned into a cat and keeps trying to be like 'hey its me!!' but it just sounds like needy cat meows hehe thank youuu stay well
Glad you liked it love !! and sure I can do that <3
Antennaria
sypnosis: you're a cat and your lover doesn't notice pairings: Ratio, Sunday, Gallagher, Welt x reader (Separate) A/N: mostly fluff and crack (again)
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RATIO
When the smoke disappeared, you found the members of the Intelligentsia Guild hovering over you, seeming like skyscrapers now- did you shrink? Did the world around you become massive? Did it have to do with the small explosion just now. Only after you noticed your clothes all around you, and a member taking a picture and showing it to you, did you realize-
you're a cat now.
And the other members thought it would be funny to tell your lover absolutely nothing.
Now you're sitting on the couch in your and Ratio's house after you gave up trying to get him to notice that it was you. You tried to get your favourite books that you loved to read from the shelves and placed your tiny paws on them, stole your favourite snacks from the kitchen, brought the clothes you wore on your and Veritas' first date to him- but he seemed to ignore all of these things! On top of that- he placed all of these items to a higher point where you couldn't reach them anymore! All you could do now, was to try and 'tell' him, that it was you.
In your mind, you spoke normally- in human words. For Veritas, however, it sounded like you were in pain by the uneven tones in your meows, and it drove him crazy. "Fine, Fine. What do you want?" he said, crossing his arms after putting away the book he read. After he spoke up, you stopped meowing and went over to him, placing both of your paws on his leg. He sighed as he petted you softly, "All cats are like this..." and, just like cats worked, you purred automatically, but you didn't mind, eventually laying down beside him with your head on his legs. "Do not get any of your fur on my clothes." you growled at his comment but didn't pay any mind to it, drifting to sleep once he petted you more.
The next day, you tried to do more things to get him to notice- sitting in your designated chair, nudging the flowers on a nearby table- even trying to use your paws to signal letters that he could read. But damn those cat elbows for making it impossible. After some hours you gave up again, wanting to wait it out till you turned back or the other members told your boyfriend.
Needless to say, Veritas was quite... disappointed at his fellow members of the Intelligentsia Guild for not telling him about your 'condition' once you turned back, saying they're a bunch of imbeciles for not documenting the effects for their experiments, and you were disappointed as well- at him, though, for not realizing sooner.
As it turned out, the effects of that smoke that you were engulfed in lasted 24 hours and since you weren't wearing any clothes, you were completely naked when you were a human again. To your luck, you were home with only Veritas present, but it was still an embarrassing experience.
SUNDAY
It was simply a dumb idea you had at the time. One of the rules in Penacony stated that Identity theft of another person was strictly forbidden, however, it didn't say anything about turning to animals and you've seen your share of dreamers turning into animals or objects, so you tried to do it yourself, but you quickly regret that decision once you weren't able to turn back to a human. Realizing your mistake, you quickly ran on all fours, which you needed to get used to at first, to Dewlight Pavilion, to inform your lover so he'll help you.
But it seemed futile as you meowed endlessly in front of Sunday's office door, trying to get him to open the door for you. Guards or even other members of The Family tried to get you away from the door, but you always hissed at them or accidentally scratched them- you made a mental note to apologize later when you turned back.
When he couldn't handle the sounds of you anymore, he groaned before opening the door and letting you in. "You are quite the handful, do you know that?" he said, grabbing you by your stomach and holding you in his arms. You meowed again, trying to tell Sunday that it was you, and not some stray cat- but he chuckled at your try and it was obvious he didn't understand.
You never thought Sunday was the type of man to take good care of animals- birds, yes, probably, but cats? Who usually hunt birds? that's a new. Nevertheless, you were spoiled rotten as a cat. He also had you rest on his desk while he worked and you were always by his side, just like when you were a human.
It's been some hours and the sun was already set. Sunday had already been in your shared bed, laughing softly when you jumped on it as well, sitting down beside him. He placed his arms under you and brought you close to him- you purred as he fondled softly with your cheek and furry ear before kissing you on the head, chuckling again.
"How long do you intend to stay in this form, Angel?" he suddenly asked and that made it clear that he knew it was you for some time at least. You let out a long yowl before he explained what you needed to think and do to turn back to a human.
GALLAGHER
"I thought you were more of a dog person." Siobhan said as she prepared another glass of a special cocktail for her local Penacony monsters. "I am, actually. Dunno why this cat is so attracted to this old dog." Gallagher always called himself a dog and you never understood why- for a certain time you thought he'd be an actual dog with a human disguise. but you forgot about it pretty soon- not wanting to imagine that your boyfriend was an actual dog.
He picked you up and held you in his arms as he made his way out of the door. "Where are you going?" Siobhan asked and he answered, "Taking this one to the reception, maybe someone lost them." you desperately writhed in his grasp when he planned to just give you away and accidentally scratched him, resulting in him letting you go abruptly- thank the Aeons cats land on their paws. "Don't tell me that hurt?" Siobhan laughed before turning to the bar again and Gallagher mocked her, "Ha.Ha. It didn't. Just surprised me is all."
The scratch wasn't deep and it wasn't bleeding so you were glad you didn't actually hurt him. You were now even more desperate to tell him it was you. You meowed, hissed, yowled- whatever sound a cat could make, you did it. Even sounds you didn't know cats were capable of. Gallagher groaned before he went back to the bar with you following behind him. As he took a seat, you jumped onto the counter and continued to meow in his face, making him rest his forehead on the cold counter. "Siobhan, I need something." he murmured and she simply laughed at his state as you continued to yowl at him. "Hey, you wanna help, kitty?" she asked, and it was like a golden opportunity.
Immediately, you jumped behind the counter and ran to the glasses first, nudging a large wine glass and the freezer. Siobhan watched you and took the glass and the ice, following exactly what you were nudging. After, you nudged the 'Odd Concoction' two times, the 'Rejuvenating Soda Water' once, then you swirled around yourself indicating that Siphon should stir, and she did. Lastly, you nudged the 'Dream Jam' once and then put your paw on the Robin Sticker for decorations.
After Siobhan was mixing the drink, she placed it on the counter for Gallagher, who accepted it and took a sip without opening his eyes. "Hm, wait a second.." he opened his eyes and analysed the cocktail in his hand. "This is ⸺ specialty drink."
"Wow, really? This cat sure knows a lot." Siobhan petted you on the head softly before she went to other customers. You turned to your boyfriend and meowed at him again, pointing your little paw first at the drink and then to yourself.
"How in the name of- How did you turn into a cat, sugar?" he asked and you shook your head. He sighed as he exed the entire drink in one gulp before picking you up again. "Let's go and find a way to turn you back."
WELT
"Nawww, she's so cute!! Can we keep her, Mr. Yang?" "March, we don't know if it's a girl yet. It could also be a boy." Dan Heng said, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from you as she whined about something like, "Let me go!" and "I haven't taken pictures yet!" you loved March but she was sometimes a tad too much...
A hand on your furry head took you out of your thoughts and even with a layer of fur you recognized the texture of that glove immediately. "March, you're scaring this one a little, I fear." your boyfriend said and you stretched your- seemingly liquid- body to reach his hand more. Welt found you in one of the halls of the Express and brought you to the Parlor car. You think it must've been a disturbance during the Jump to another Universe that made you turn into this fur ball.
You didn't mind at the moment though when you sat with Welt and Himeko on one of the couches with Pom-Pom sweeping the floor. Himeko drank her cup of coffee like usual and traced her thumb over your toe beans while you laid on your lover's lap purring contently. "Quite a polite one, no? And you found this one just like that?" Himeko asked, massaging your front paw as well. Welt nodded as he fondled with your furry ears.
"I did. A few minutes after the Jump, I believe." Himeko hummed as she tapped your nose lightly, making you jolt a little. "So, have you seen ⸺ lately?" she asked and you looked at her with a tilted head. "Did she figure it out?" you thought.
She smiled teasingly at you before you meowed at her.
"This woman, she does know!" you thought again before climbing up Welt's chest and yowling at his face. To him and everyone on the Express it really sounded just like whining and Welt tried to carefully get you off of him, but you were persistent- like a burdock. After some struggling, you jumped off of him and bit Pom-Pom's ear lightly, pulling it. "H-Hey! Pom-Pom's ears are no toy!" Welt got up from his seat and pulled you away from them and you took his opportunity to steal his glasses with your paws, trying to put them on your tiny nose. Only then did he notice.
He blinked a few times and took a glance at Himeko, who laughed softly. "Oh." he mentally gave himself a slap to the cheek as he realized that it was you.
"Oh! So that's ⸺? Still adorable! Let me get a pic!" March said as she took out her camera and took a picture of you and Welt with his glasses.
After turning back to a Human with Herta's help, you wanted March to print the picture and give it to you so you could hang it in your and your boyfriend's room. It was a cute picture, really. You as a cat looking straight to the camera with giant glasses and Welt covering his face with you. He apologized many, many times and you accepted it, naturally.
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brewed-pangolin · 3 months
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Soap MacTavish's refractory period is basically nonexistent. 30 seconds to 5 minutes max.
Man will literally bounce off the bed, leaving you splayed out and trying to remember how to breathe while he trots over to the kitchen to grab himself a Gatorade and a protein bar.
You're still in the grips of having an existential crisis when he emerges back into the bedroom.
And this mother fucker has the audacity to ask if 'you're okay.'
To which you answer by blinking. That's it.
"Aw, poor lass. Let's teach ya thing er two bout endurance, yeah?"
And then he starts all over again.
He does two circuits of this. And by the end, you don't know whether you're on the brink of death or being reborn into another plain of existence.
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moonsaver · 1 month
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Sunday always has his eyes on you.
You aren't sure what you exactly must have done for it to happen. And frequently, too.
You check your appearance in the mirror many times, making sure something doesn't appear out of place, messing with your hair until you're sure nothing's wrong, fixing your clothes constantly until the skin of your fingers burn from the continuous rubbing against the fabrics, then doing a few once-overs again and again.
However, Sunday's eyes still remain fixated on you. You nervously fidget whenever you make eye contact with him. He doesn't budge. That familiar, soft smile on his face remaining the same as it was.
Wherever he appears – for a public announcement, a polite greeting for a special guest, while he's busy talking to his employees and troubleshooting problems from time to time, his eyes search for you and are on you constantly.
Sometimes, they haunt you. You mind your own business until you feel a heavy, thick gaze settle on you in the crowd, your gut feeling is screaming at you as you turn around and see those piercingly golden eyes catch and settle on you through the heavy crowd.
And you swear things have started becoming stranger as of recent. Your credits have either gone missing, or you have too many of them than the last time. The dreamscape you originally had on your schedule was unsettlingly emptier than usual when you visited. And the restaurant you'd taken a liking to that was tucked away comfortably in an unassuming building was now frequented by Sunday, coincidentally.
However, you made a mistake.
You fell asleep.
For a while, you hadn't felt his gaze or even saw him anywhere in the crowd. No watchful, prying eyes were on you. Your lost sleep was finally catching up to you, and you couldn't help it. It was when you were on the edge of sleep that you'd realised – you didn't see Sunday because he was right behind you.
The next thing you knew – you woke up in an empty dreamscape. Standing before you was a very pleased Sunday.
Introductions are due, he says. No one will interrupt us, he says. You cannot leave, he says.
The sandbox has quite a few more fixes to be done. Until then, Sunday's managed to create a cozy little room for you. You have all the time in the world to catch up on your sleep. And when you wake up, he'll be right there, waiting to know about all the things you'd dreamed of. He's looking for inspiration for a new dreamscape, anyway.
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ravenelyx · 8 months
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Sebastian is the type to get random bursts of affection.
At the beginning of your relationship, he would suppress them, he'd be more reserved, scared to be too annoying, too clingy, too inadequate, too much. But eventually, he would relax — he would feel more at ease and gradually act on them more and more.
And one of his favourite activities is snuggling.
You could be sitting on the sofa, and he'd sit down too, and guide you between his legs, wrapping his arms around you from behind, and he would nuzzle your hair, your neck, your cheeks, eyes closed in bliss, and place very lazy kisses everywhere his lips can reach. Nuzzle, kiss, nuzzle, kiss, over and over again.
Or he would gently push you to lay down, and rest his head on your chest, face hidden in the crook of your neck so he can breathe in your perfume, lips brushing slightly on your skin, and he'd hug you like you're a giant pillow, and cuddle with you until he feels like he has fallen all over again. Because what's important to Sebastian is to feel you close, no matter how, no matter what.
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wynnyfryd · 1 year
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hey, quick question but what if Eddie hadn’t just said “make him pay” at the end? what if he’d actually done it, screwed up his face and his single scrap of courage and kissed Steve hard, one desperate press of lips before he stepped back out of Steve’s space? Only…
Only Steve’s not gay. He’s not. Not that there’s anything wrong with it if Eddie is, but he isn’t. Steve likes girls, is kind of hung up on one girl in particular, actually, and she’s standing right behind him watching this go down, and oh, God is this awkward now.
He squares his shoulders, gives Eddie a nod that he hopes conveys something like “sorry” and “it’s okay” and “I’m not gonna punch you when this is over, man, I’m really not,” but Eddie’s eyes cut away and he clears his throat and then Nancy’s saying, “Steve? Steve, we need to go.”
So Steve goes.
Steve goes, trudges through the woods with Nancy radiating uncomfortable energy all down his side, and Steve’s got a pit in his stomach and a scorch mark on his mouth where Eddie’s lips left a fucking brand, the kiss repeating on a loop in his mind. He starts thinking about how he’s probably about to die, how he’s gonna die feeling all upside down in the Upside Down and it’s a really stupid joke but it gets him mulling over the fucked up weird life he has now versus the one he always kinda thought he wanted. He tells Nancy about it: the crawling backwards, the thump on the head, how she’s always his co-captain in his Winnebago dreams.
She looks at him with soft, sad eyes — God, her eyes are always so sad, have been ever since the day Barb disappeared — and she rests a delicate hand on his forearm and asks, “Do you think… do you think maybe it’s always me in your dream because I’m the only person your mind thinks it’s allowed to put there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Steve.” Her eyes aren’t so soft now. They’re shining with that hard glint they get when she’s lost patience with Steve’s bullshit. It’s a look Steve knows well, and his hand comes up to touch his lips.
“But I- I’m not…”
“Just go,” she says, her jaw set, all that unbreakable resolve on display. “Robin and I can handle this. Go.”
Robin turns back to look at him over her shoulder, gives him an encouraging nod, and Steve takes off running, sprinting through the trees, following the sound of screeching bats.
When he bursts through the treeline, panting and sweating and clutching at his torn-up sides, Eddie’s in the middle of a maelstrom, his makeshift shield held in a shaking grip as an army of bats encircle him.
“Eddie!” Steve shouts, lungs burning as he begs his feet to move faster, to run fucking run because one of the bats dives at Eddie’s head and another takes a bite out of his leather sleeve; a third one whips a tail around Eddie’s ankle and then Eddie’s going down, pulled to the cracked, filthy earth by gnashing teeth and bloodied claws, and they’re eating him, getting at all those squishy vital bits around his middle when Steve finally hacks his way through the horde to get to Eddie’s side. Armed with an ax and Eddie’s spear, Steve strikes and slashes blindly at the wall of shrieking monsters as they start circling tighter, caging them in, and he’s dead they’re both dead they’re so fucking screwed—
The bats drop. All at once and with no reason Steve can discern, their screams fall silent and their bodies squelch all around them as they slap the hard ground like dead fish on a dock.
Steve drops to his knees beside Eddie, and Jesus Christ, there’s- there’s so much blood oh God oh fuck.
“Bad, huh?” Eddie asks, and how is he still smirking when there’s blood spilling out of his mouth? When there’s a chunk missing out of his jaw?
“Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,” Steve mumbles frantically, not sure if he’s praying or panicking or both. He gets his shirt off, rips at the remaining scraps of Eddie’s, too; starts using them to make bandages. “Shit, Eddie, just- just hold on, okay? Stay with me.”
He wriggles a scrap of fabric under Eddie’s brutalized torso, and Eddie screams when Steve pulls it tight around his sides, ties it off and presses down, trying to slow the bleeding. There’s so much fucking blood. His knees slip in it as he ties a tourniquet just above Eddie’s elbow, hoping it’ll save Eddie’s mangled arm, and he bunches the last of the fabric up and presses it to the shredded edges of the wound on Eddie’s face.
Eddie smiles up at him with tears in his eyes, with blood on his lips. “Pretty- pretty grand gesture for a guy you don’t want to kiss.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, and he’s crying, too. “I don’t- I just…”
“Steve,” Eddie chokes, his breath whistling out with a sickening wheeze, and Steve doesn’t know how the fuck he’s going to get him through the gate and back to safety without making him bleed out. “Steve, it’s… s’okay. M’sorry I kissed you, man.” His eyes are glazing over, and no, please, please, don’t—
Eddie looks up at him, brow furrowed, like it’s taking a lot of effort. His eyes are still so pretty, even now, as Steve hovers helplessly and watches the light slowly leave them. “Actually, I- I guess m’not,” Eddie slurs. “Had to do it at least once b-before I- before I—”
“EDDIE!!!!” a furious, cracking voice echoes through the empty park. Eddie’s trailer door bangs open, falling off its hinges, and a limping Dustin Henderson comes storming across the lot.
“Dustin!!” Steve hollers back, relief flooding his veins like maple syrup straight from the tap, and incredibly (hysterically, he’s probably in shock), he’s laughing when he looks back down at Eddie. Eddie, who’s half dead in his lap, whose blood is all over Steve’s pants. Who Steve might be able to save now.
He shakes Eddie’s shoulders and says, “You can kiss me all you want when we make it out of here, man,” his voice all high-pitched and full of phlegm and trapped somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and Eddie’s eyes go wide at the promise in Steve’s words.
“Dustin!” Steve yells again, pleading, “Dustin, come on, come help me move him!”
It’s slow going, but they get Eddie through the gate, get him taped up so he’s more bandage than boy by the time the ambulance arrives. A medic claps Steve on the shoulder and says ‘You did good, kid,’ and Steve cries at that and then spends an annoying amount of time crying over the next few days, curled up in a rickety chair at Eddie’s bedside in the hospital.
More tears when Eddie finally wakes up. Happy ones this time, and there’s a parade of people coming in to hug Eddie and give him flowers and even Hopper gives him a grudging hair ruffle and an attaboy, and then Steve’s driving Eddie home in the Beemer; gets all the way to the driveway before Eddie brings it up.
“Did you mean it?” he asks, his voice timid and barely audible over the hum of the car.
Steve cuts the engine. “Hmm?”
“Did you, um- the thing, that you…” Eddie spins a ring around on his finger, lets out a frustrated huff. “I mean, I didn’t die, right? I made it out of there, so…?”
You can kiss me all you want when we make it out of here.
Steve’s ears burn at the memory, his mouth going dry, and he must take too long to answer because Eddie starts trying to backpedal. “Sorry. Sorry, you said you’re not— I just thought, maybe— shit, uh, f-forget I said-”
“No! No, um.” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “Turns out I kind of am. Or, like. Well, I mean, Robin said liking both is its own thing, it’s not a mix of the two, but…”
“…But both?” Eddie finishes, and his eyes are sparkling.
“Yeah. Both,” Steve shrugs. It’s getting easier to say. “…Mostly just you, though.”
“Oh, just mostly, huh?” Eddie teases, unbuckling his seatbelt so he can lean into Steve’s space.
Steve’s face feels too warm. His neck is probably all splotchy. “Whatever. Are you gonna shut up and kiss me already or what?”
“Uh huh,” Eddie grins and runs his tongue over his teeth. “Many times as I want, right?” He brushes Steve’s hair behind his ear, his calloused fingers so gentle against Steve’s jaw as he lines their faces up.
“How many times is that?” Steve whispers.
“Mm….” Eddie’s mouth brushes against his. “Start counting and let’s find out.”
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albedov · 2 days
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it was on your first date that you realised, the small twitch and flitter of the angelic wings that framed his equally angelic face were a sign. whenever they fluttered and he looked away you knew he was embarrassed or flustered, whenever they perked up slightly you knew he was intrigued or happy. he hated it really, his desire for control could not be achieved if his wings gave away every single bit of his true feelings but maybe it just took the right person to pick up on the signs.
it was cute at first. you reassured him time and time again that they weren't anything to be embarrassed about and it was nice to know he cared even if he couldn't express his feelings properly. now they just felt like a taunt - maybe knowing his real feelings wasn't such a blessing. the small flutter or twitch of happiness morphed into an annoyance, whenever you suggested that perhaps you both go out some time he'd respond with a simple sure but his wings said otherwise.
you wish he'd just be forward with you. the wings that used to flutter with happiness or embarrassment now only flicked in annoyance or boredom. in all honesty, you were tired and sick of him lying straight to your face and you started wondering if you had only been another victim of him exerting his control over someone.
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heartfullofleeches · 1 month
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Letters from You
Yan T.V Show Cast + Clown Reader Snippet
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Tap....Tap...Knock.....Tap...Tap...Knock
Hm, usually that always does the trick. The strangled hics and sobs beyond the other side of the door depress any chance of your playful banter getting through to the poor jester. On brighter days, she'd hear the secret knock you two came up with together and dry her tears enough to finish things off. Whatever got her upset today was really dragging her down....
"She's been like that all morning, Sunny...." Gus chimes in. The clown has been worried sick about his sibling as presented by the stormy clouds replacing the smiling suns beneath their eyelids. "Not even Holly has been able to get through to her... You're our last hope, Sun..."
"I'll try my best." Pressing your ear to the door, you strike your knuckles against the door - careful not to cause the jester more duress. "Melan? It's Sunday, do you want to talk? We'll leave you alone if you need space, but we all just want to make sure you're okay...."
Through whimpers and sobs, a small, quivering voice bleeds through.
"M...my letter.... I can't go anywhere without my letter! They promised.... They promised to write to me everyday...."
Oh, no... Placing your hand on your pants pocket, your fingers trace out the rectangular shape within the fold. How could you forget something so important to her?
You pull the crumpled envelope from your pocket, smoothing out its corners as you speak up. "Melan! I have that letter from your penpal. Handyman must've given it to me by mistake. I'll read it out loud for you, got it?"
You open the letter up as the sniffling stops almost entirely.
"Dear Melan,
Hey there, Melan! How's my favorite jester doing today? I got the drawings you sent with your last letter. I'll hang them up in my room soon as I have the chance. Ice cream is one my favorite desserts too. Maybe we can have some together someday. If not, have an extra bowl in my honor!
Are you taking care of yourself and your siblings? How's your practice going? I heard you can juggle two pins without dropping them now, I'm so proud of you! You're getting better and better everyday - that's why you're my favorite jester.
Lots of love, your dear penpal - Y/n."
The room on the other side of the door goes dead quiet.
"Melan?...."
A creak in the floorboards - followed by another. They continue until -click- the door unlocks.
"Th... thank you, Sunday... I'll be out in a minute. I'm sorry for worrying you...."
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hotchnisslvr · 1 month
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banana pancakes
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Rating: E
Category: Fluff (tooth-rotting)
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary: On a Sunday morning, you wake to find Aaron making breakfast in the kitchen. He surprises you with slow dancing to old country music, Jack is cute as all get out, and of course, banana pancakes.
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“Jack?” you ask groggily. You prop yourself up on your elbows and note Aaron isn’t in bed beside you. “Hey buddy, is everything ok?” You glance at your phone plugged in on the nightstand where the numbers blink back 8:37AM aka too early on a Sunday.
Jack giggles quietly. “Daddy is being silly in the kitchen.”
Knowing that could mean anything to a six year old, naturally, your brow furrows. Your lips quirk into a half smile as you regard his own happy face. “What do you mean, silly?”
Jack’s little hands fly to his mouth as he stifles another laugh. “I’m going to go play in my room!” And just like that he bounces off of the bad and darts out the door into the hallway.
Now curious, you push the sheets back and slide out of bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as a chill passes through you. Before leaving the room, you pull on the gray cotton robe that falls to your mid-calf and tie it loosely over your sleep shirt and shorts set. As you step into the hallway, the smell of coffee and something baking fills your nostrils. Your stomach rumbles gently in response to the sweet aroma.
Quietly, you make sure way down the hall. When you’re close enough to peer into the kitchen, you lean against the doorway and watch. The stove is along the far wall, so if you’re cooking, you’re turned away from the doorway. He doesn’t see you, not at first.
Dressed only in a white t-shirt and boxers, the apron decorated with images of wine glasses on it contrasts sharply with the plaid pattern of his undergarments. George Strait is playing on the stereo. He gently shakes his hips back and forth as he quietly sings along to the country ballad. As he flips the pancakes over, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You bite your thumbnail as you watch him and when he turns around, the stunned look on his face causes you to smile even wider.
“Now how am I supposed to bring you breakfast in bed if you’re not in bed?” he questions, the dark slash of his brow arching as he regards you with warm, brown eyes.
“You can blame the little man,” you reply cheekily. “He woke me up to tell me daddy was being silly in the kitchen.”
Hotch smiles, revealing the left dimple in his cheek. “Oh yeah?” he says, tone playful as he saunters toward you. Stretching his hands out toward the ties on your robe, he takes hold of them and pulls you in toward him. Looping one arm around your waist, he uses the other to swipe at the dial on the stereo. The volume cranks up and he takes your hand in his. Turning in a slow circle, he sways to the music, pulling you along with him.
He presses a kiss to your temple and holds you close as he dances you in small circles around the kitchen. Putting a deep country vibrato into his voice, he begins to hum and sing along against your cheek.
“I cross my heart,” he sings, “and promise to, give all I’ve got to give to make your dreams come true.”
You drop your head back and laugh as he whirls you around in a dramatic arc. “Aaron!” you cry giddily.
He continues to sing. “In all the world, you’ll never find a love as true as mine.”
The acrid smell of something burning starts to singe your nostrils. “Aaron, the pancakes!”
“Oh, let them burn!” he croons.
You playfully slap at his chest before breaking free from his hold. In turn, he slaps you on the ass. You shriek gleefully and he laughs as you dash over to the stove and pull the quickly blackening pancakes off the pan. Fortunately, he has a bowl half full of batter still off to the side alongside a plate of about half a dozen perfectly golden brown pancakes.
“Daddy! Daddy!” The pitter patter of small feet slapping against the linoleum echoes as Jack tumbles into the room. Aaron grabs him around the middle and swoops him into the air.
“Hey buddy!” he greets as he kisses him on the cheek.
“Daddy, it’s our song!”
Aaron quiets for a moment as he listens to the stereo and Jack is right. The track had changed over to another George Straight song, Love Without End, Amen.
As Aaron dances Jack around the kitchen, swinging him high and low and singing lyrics fractured with laughter, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with joy.
“Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then, it’s a love without end, amen.”
You couldn’t begin to imagine a more perfect Sunday morning than this.
“It’s a love without end, amen!” Jack sing-shouts as the song comes to a close.
Aaron sets Jack down on the floor and you start to clap and cheer. “What a show!” you exclaim. “Jack, that was amazing!”
He grins sheepishly, “Thank you.” He tacks your name to the end of his thanks as he runs to the kitchen table to climb into his chair and you can’t help but feel all the more grateful in return for how much Jack has welcomed you into his little family with him and his dad.
“I’ll get the pancakes,” Aaron says with a quick peck on your cheek as he scoots past you to pick up the plate.
“I’ll get the coffee!” you say in turn and pull two mugs down from the cabinet. As you fix yours and Aaron’s (black for you and splash of milk and two sugars for him), you make sure to grab a third mug from the cabinet to make Jack a glass of chocolate milk. Drinking out of a mug while you two drank your coffee made him feel like one of the grown ups, after all.
You carefully pile all three mugs into your hands and make your way to your seat at the table. Aaron sets a plate in front of you and Jack and you serve yourself and him two pancakes each.
“Oh! Do we have any—” you start and stop as Aaron places a small bowl of sliced bananas beside your plate.
He eyes you knowingly. “You think after all this time, I’d forget your favorite?”
You cup his cheek in your hand and press a quick kiss to his lips.
“Yuck!” cries Jack as she shoves a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.
“I do love banana pancakes,” you say as you scoop a spoonful onto the fluffy rounds in front of you.
Aaron hugs you from behind before taking his seat at the head of the table. “And I love you more than you love banana pancakes.”
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xythlia · 8 months
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Surprising mammon for his birthday with some absolutely sinful gold lingerie. You spend the night worshipping him, showing your devotion and greediness for him, taking your sweet time with his sensitive body
𓏲 ࣪₊ hbd to our mans hes getting smacked between us all like a volleyball holding on for dear life <3
› cw : f!reader, lingerie, body worship, praise, nipple play, hickies, handjob, petnames (baby, honey), anal fingering, ball fondling
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Your skin prickled with anticipation and heat, not even the cool air inside the bedroom worked to combat the fever stoked by arousal. The chain clasped around your neck, draping down your chest in interlocked mesh did little to ground you.
It was extravagant, something he rarely got to indulge in anymore but tonight was a treat; what could be more fitting for the Avatar of Greeds birthday than his beloved in trappings of gold just for him to unravel? You bit your lip, hands roaming your skin feeling far too needy for his touch.
But patience comes first, he went out with Asmodeus to do some shopping which means he'll be doubly surprised when he opens the door. Fortunately you don't have to wait much longer, hearing his telltale footsteps coming up the hallway as you rise to sit perched on your legs folded beneath you. It felt like that earlier desire was now a string fully pulled taught by ghostly fingers.
With a grin that nearly hurts your cheeks you watch as it takes his brain several moments to catch up to what his eyes see, mouth slightly agape as he takes you in. In a rush he fumbles with the door, dropping shopping bags at his feet.
"What are ya-"
"Happy birthday!" You tip your head back to laugh, purposely showing off your gold dripped breasts.
As your giggle tapers off you rise to your feet, padding over to him to take his hands in yours, noticing how hot his skin feels.
"Ya wearing that just for me?" You don't miss how his voice cracks on the last syllable. Stopping just before the bed you gently place your hands on his chest, humming in affirmation as they run down over the soft material of his shirt stopping to slip your fingertips beneath the hem and reveling in the way his breathing hitches at the contact.
"Mhm," you place a kiss to the side of his throat, "just for you...". The air is balmy as his hands hesitantly rest at your sides, as if for a split second he wonders if he's dreaming.
Encouragingly you drag his shirt up over his stomach, dragging your lips up his throat, over his jaw, before finding purchase at his lips in a kiss that devoured all air in your lungs. As he backed you up the rest of the way, until you felt the edge of the mattress hit the back of your knees, you pulled back to slow him. With a soft tch you help him pull his shirt off then toy with the waistband of his jeans before he eagerly slid them off as well.
"Thought ya said it was mine to unwrap?" He asked. Gingerly you palm his erection through his boxers, eyes half lidded as you guide him to lay on his back letting you straddle his hips. The sharp intake of breath as you slide your pussy, barely covered in a thin scrap of satin, against him makes you nearly moan.
He looks so gorgeous beneath you, hair tousled and skin already gleaming with sweat in the low light.
"It is, but what kind of birthday would it be if I didn't give you something extra special, hm?" You murmur as your fingers curl around the band of his boxers, enjoying the slight whine that slips past his lips.
His eyes are glued to you, rapt with want as you wiggle your hips again, friction working like pieces of flint to spark embers in your tummy and make your clit throb. Again you tell yourself to be patient, bending down to nip at his jawline before daring to swipe your tongue along his neck, sucking and grazing the flesh with your teeth to create vivid purple bloom across his clavicle.
Teasingly you roll his nipples between both thumbs and indexes, swallowing his whines as you bring your lips back up to his and his hands knead against your ass. In jerky motions his hips buck against you, desperate for that earlier friction as you pinch and lightly tug at his nipples.
It's easy to tell he's getting impatient, needy and you answer his breathy moans by slipping his boxers down. In a flash he's gotten the idea already, raising his hips to help you slide them off as his cock springs out of its confines to lightly hit against his abdomen. The swollen red tip makes you nearly start drooling, tongue sliding across your bottom lip with the faint remembrance of salty, thick cum coating it.
But that's not what you have in mind tonight, it just wouldn't be enough to show him how deep your affection for him runs. Softly you wrap one hand around his shaft, slight, slow pumps as he throws his head back against the pillows with a moan so deep you can feel how wet its got you.
"Feel good, baby?" You purr, keeping the pace languid to feel him throb in your hand. Instantly a deep flush spreads across his cheeks, one hand clawing at your thigh as the other lays against the top of his head.
"Everything ya do feels good," he grunts out the last part, already breathing heavy as your thumb smears precum across his tip.
"You know you're everything I ever wanted?" Your other hand reaches between both your legs to fondle his balls, a sweet spot you found early on in your relationship. Between the ragged breathing and the whiny moans you know he can't answer you, but you didn't really anticipate he would so you continue.
"You're so wonderful, always taking care of me," you bend back down to ghost your lips over his as you finish in a whisper, "let me take care of you baby, yeah?"
You pick up your pace, reaching over as you sit back to grab the lube resting on the bed. It's something he shyly brought up to you one day, something you've been saving for just this occasion. It slides out of the tube cold and sticky, easily enough to do one handed although some drips against the bedspread, forgotten.
Lightly your index circles his hole, gently building up to insertion so as not to cause any pain while your other hand keeps up its steady strokes against his cock. The way his jaw drops open in a silent moan as your first knuckle slides past the ring of muscle is absolutely sinful, searing itself into the back of your eyelids.
"You're doing so good, honey" you coo at him, barely holding it together yourself watching the way hes unraveling as you introduce more of your index. Tactfully you twist your hands around his cock, gliding against the skin as he sloppily pushes his hips up to chase the movement. When he stills for a moment you start sliding the digit in and out in a nice, steady rhythm.
"S'too much-" he chokes out, the hand above his head clenching part of the pillow in a white knuckle grip. "Feels good fuck-"
He cuts himself off in a strangled cry while your hand keeps pumping regardless, feeling the slow throb of his cock as warm cum spurts against his stomach, milking him as you place sweet kisses against his cheek.
Your noses brush as your hands leave him, groping for the hand towel that was also laying somewhere beside you on the bed. As you clean up in loving movements his breathing steadies against and his hands caress your sides, making you giggle.
"I get the rest of this present now, yeah?" He murmurs weakly, making your stomach do summersaults.
"Of course you do, birthday boy."
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tightjeansjavi · 2 months
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The Rite of Movement | drabble
“I want a Sunday kinda love”
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A/N: it’s Wednesday my dudessss and what better way to celebrate another hump day than with some more soft smut and tooth achingly sweet fluff with pornstar!joel and his baby love 💕
~word count: 1.1k~
Summary: a lazy Sunday morning with Joel
Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader
Warnings: none, smut, fluff, established relationship, real sex, intimacy, unprotected piv, cockwarming, sleepy vibes to the max, soft vibes to the max, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!
series masterlist
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Lazy Sunday mornings have arguably always been Joel’s favorite day of the week. (Any day of the week spent with you is his favorite)
You like to sleep in on the weekends and he’s always been a bit of the early riser type unless he was up late with you the night before then he’ll find himself burying his face against your neck, inhaling your scent and mumbling sleepily into your skin, words jumbled and slurred together. He’ll wind his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so he can be as close to you as physically possible. He’ll sleep for another hour, give or take, before he finally stirs awake.
He never disturbs you, always lets you sleep as long as you’d like. He’ll press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling a soft whisper of an I love you, and you find yourself smiling in your dream state, snuggling further into your pillow.
Downstairs in the kitchen Joel is careful to not make too much noise as he putzes around the kitchen. He unloads the clean dishes in the dishwasher, humming a tune to himself in the soft morning light. Artemis hops up onto the counter, rubbing against Joel’s arm affectionately, meowing soft and sweet as he gives her a few gentle pets and scratches behind her ears, “mornin’ baby girl,” he coos, kissing the top of her furry head, “I’ll get your breakfast in a sec, ‘Kay?”
She purrs in response, hopping down from the counter and patiently waits for her breakfast.
With Artemis happily munching away on her breakfast, Joel finds himself leaned against the countertop, steaming mug of coffee held between his hands, eyes soft and lips curving in the corners because he thinks of you every morning, tangled in his sheets, dreaming sweet dreams. He smiles, taking a sip of the steaming liquid, letting the domestic comfort he’s feeling seep into his bones for a moment longer.
When you finally do emerge from your slumber, it’s nearing noon, and Joel has already gone for his morning run, showered and started a load of laundry when you sleepily saunter down the staircase. Artemis greets you at the bottom of the stairs, winding in and out between your calves, meowing softly at your arrival.
Hi baby. Your voice is soft, laced with sleep as you scoop her up into your arms, loving on her with your eyes half open as she purrs in content. You set her down on the floor a few moments later, stretching your arms above your head and pad into the living room.
Joel has never looked cozier than he does right now. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower, but in this soft light you can see the little grays in his curls shining through. There’s more grays appearing in his beard as well, and you find yourself kissing the heart shaped patch of skin tenderly, morning and night and all the time in between.
He’s wearing his coziest pair of sweats, no shirt, tan skin on full display, and cheaters perched on the bridge of his nose. A novel held comfortably between his big hands. His eyebrows lift in amusement at a sentence he just read, one stray curl falling over his face. He blows out a puff of air, moving the stray curl to the side so it no longer obstructs his view.
He looks so fucking pretty.
“‘Mornin’, baby love.” He rasps warmly, eyes meeting yours over the top of the page he was reading, lips curving upwards into a lazy, lopsided grin. “How’d my girl sleep?”
You mumble out a reply, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you approach him on the couch, “slept good, baby.” You hum softly and climb into his lap, snuggling right up to him with your arms draped around his neck, fingers playing with the damp curls at the base of his hairline, “you need a trim, Joel.”
“Mmm.” He man spreads his thighs so that you have more room and lets his freehand drop the book so he can grab onto you, and feel your skin beneath his palm. “Wanna give me a trim when you’re a little more awake?”
“Mhmm.” You reply, burying your face into his neck where you can smell his body wash and cologne mingling together. “Can I…sit on it for a little while, please? Just wanna feel closer to you. Maybe you can read to me too?”
He smiles at your question, the softness and honeyed tone of your voice, feeling his heart swell like a balloon because this closeness and intimacy that he gets to share with you is something that he will cherish for the rest of his life.
He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, lips warm and gentle, “anytime you want, baby, all me s’yours. Remember?” He gently reminds you, and lets his hand drift between your bodies, pushing the hem of his sweats down over his hips so that you have easier access.
He’s freeballin’ it today, #laundrydayamiritelaidease ;)
His cock is half hard, lying comfortably against the soft swell of his stomach, velvety skin warm to the touch when your palm gently strokes him, “I know, baby. But I always like to ask.” You murmur, kissing his neck sweetly, affectionately.
He hums and a soft grunt rumbles up his chest, hips shifting and he reaches for your cotton sleep shorts, pulling them to the side to reveal your bare pussy to his hooded gaze. His fingers tease through your folds, gently stroking you, feeling how soft and wet you are for him. He spreads his pointer and middle finger apart, a translucent strand of arousal spread between them, stringy like a delicate fiber from a spider's web. “S’wet for me. S’soft, s’pretty, baby love. Love you so much.” He rasps.
You slowly sink down around him, feeling that delicious and familiar stretch of his girth, and your walls sucking him in like a vice. Your body naturally molds to him, accommodating to his size. His hand rests along your bare hip, gently squeezing and kneading the soft flesh between his fingers. “I love you, Joel. My baby.”
He settles back into his book, head tilting to rest against your own as he listens to your faint soft breaths and occasional whimpers when he pulses gently inside of you. You’ve fallen back into a sweet slumber in his arms and when he feels his own eyelids begin to grow heavy, and the words on the page he’s reading blur together, he presses another kiss to the side of your head murmuring, “my baby love mine, all mine, all mine.”
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xi-chan · 25 days
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Your Poppy
sypnosis: You end up falling asleep while waiting for your lover pairings: Aventurine, Sunday, Blade A/N: Wanted to get more active so here you go. Characters may be ooc like in almost every fic that exists lol - not proofread
AVENTURINE
A finger lightly grazes your cheek with utmost care, a smile appearing on Aventurine's lips as he saw your sleeping figure on your couch. After running some errands for the IPC, he got caught up in some different matters with the Ten Stonehearts, thus extending his absence. He wanted nothing more than to get home and stay in your arms forever.
He gave you a soft kiss on the forehead and brushed some hair strands out of your face, smiling even more. You were the most perfect being in his eyes- like you were divine. He carefully placed his arms under your figure, carrying you bridal-style to your shared bedroom and letting the silk covers engulf you. However, you slowly opened your eyes and smiled back at him.
"..Welcome back.. I didn't mean to.. fall asleep." you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as you tried to sit up, but a large hand held you down. Aventurine chuckled as he shook his head, "No need to get up, dear. You slept so soundly, shouldn't have interrupted that."
You simply sighed and lied down again, feeling a shift of weight beside you as Aventurine plops down next to you. You shake your head and point to his clothes. "Change. I won't have your IPC germs on the bed." You pulled the cover over your body as your lover mocked your words before changing into his night attire, the one with the silky smooth texture you loved, mostly because it felt nice on your skin.
After he was beside you again, you were face-to-face, and he gave you a light peck on the lips. "I missed you." You chuckled as you snuggled closer to him, feeling the silk texture of his attire. "...I missed you too. Why were you away for so long?"
Aventurine only pouted as he held you closer to him, your head right beside his chest where his heart was underneath.
"Doesn't matter. All that matters is that I'm with you right now."
SUNDAY
As you shuffled in your sleep, you noticed that the position you were in was different than the one you remember falling asleep in. Instead of sitting in your lover's, Sunday's, chair, face down onto his desk, you were instead sitting on something far more familiar and warm, the desk right beside you in view. A small hum from above made you realize in exactly what position you were in.
Sunday had spotted you sleeping on his desk and knowing just how uncomfortable that chair can get, he simply picked you up, sat down instead and placed you on his lap with your head on his shoulder. Rather than holding you head with his hand so that it wouldn't nod around, he spread those fluffy wings to hold it.
Sunday may be the Halovian between the two of you, but you were far more of an angel than he in his view.
As you looked up to see where the sound came from, Sunday was fast-asleep, although you knew he could wake up if you only poked him a little. You smiled to yourself and snuggled closer to him, embracing his warmth.
"Shall we go to the bedroom or do you favor this more?" he asked suddenly and you shook your head. "...Doesn't matter where. You choose, whereever it will be.. I know it's nice if you're there."
Sunday chuckled quietly as he held you closer, humming a sweet and calming tune. "Robin's song" you think. It's been some time since you've last seen her, actually. Before you could think further, Sunday kissed you softly on the forehead, catching your attention.
"Don't worry your head so much and get some rest, love."
BLADE
Kafka was singing a lullaby while you waited for Blade- damn that smooth voice for making you fall asleep. Blade had been sent out by Elio for a mission and it had already been 3 days since he departed. Kafka's been spending some time with you, telling you that you shouldn't worry or that he'll come back soon- or rather in her words:
"You know Bladie, I doubt he's taking his time."
Kafka smiled as you fell asleep with your head on her lap, her fingers were stroking your hair and Silverwolf quickly took a picture before disappearing again. Although you were no Stellaron Hunter, the others saw you as their familiar- even Sam who you rarely saw.
Footsteps made Kafka stop and she sighed contently. "How did it go?" Blade stood in front of her with crossed arms, the same expression on his face as usual. "Mhm, never mind, tell me later on focus on them." She carefully lifted your head off her lap and placed it back on the couch. She winked to him before leaving the room.
Blade suspired before sitting down beside you. His hand rested on your hip as he leaned his chin on the other. During every second of his immortal life, Blade wishes to leave this eternal torture- the burden of his past and the Mara inside him give him no rest, but you- you seem to have an aura that surpresses his Mara-like Kafka's spirit whisper, but much more intense. Just being near you calms his body and mind, and he'll forever be grateful for it, no matter how you do it.
"You've died countless times to the point where people are used to it and have stopped asking 'Are you still hurt?', haven't they?" Blade hummed as he turned away from you. "What difference does it make?" You smiled at him before grabbing his arm softly, minding his bandages. "Immortal or Mortal, you're still a person. Everyone needs reassurance once in a while."
Blade's lips curled upward- but not exactly a smile- at this memory. He quickly unfolded a blanket and draped it over your body, letting you continue sleeping as he leaves.
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brewed-pangolin · 2 months
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Deafening Stillness
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cw: depictions of migraines and symptoms
Johnny reads the signs the moment he walks through the front door.
Blackout blinds strung over every window. The television sitting calm and lifeless, and the usual boisterous sounds of your music defeaned by the heavy veil of silence that creeps through the halls of your shared home.
He keeps his footsteps quiet. Measured and methodical as he makes his way down the main corridor. Gently resting his dufflebag down on the floor outside the master bedroom as he meticulously turns the knob on the door.
And as he takes in the sight before him, his heart breaks. Knowing all too well the unbearable pain his love is engaged in.
--
It all started at the store. You were simply reading the baking instructions on the back of a cake box when the initial indications began to take hold.
A soft aura creeping like tendrils into the corners of your periphery. Glowing like a beacon that pulled you into a growing state of anxiety as you mentally prepared for the next symptom to make its debilitating presence known.
Quickly, you placed the cake box back into its alloted slot and moved towards the checkout aisle. The aura abated for the time being as you focused on paying for the few items you had managed to throw in your cart.
You moved with earnest determination as you crossed the chaotic parking lot. The ever growing throb sinking into the back of your head, vibrating down your spine and wrapping around the flesh of your neck as every step reverberated like thundering mallots into the surface of your skull.
Making it to the safety of your vehicle, you fumbled with the keys in your pocket with a growing tremor that echoed into your hands.
Desperate for isolation and quiet, you hastily hit the unlock button. Haphazardly tossing the bags into the passenger side and throwing yourself into the driver's seat.
You moved with increasingly wretched intent to make it home before the devastating effects would ultimately take hold. The aura subsiding, only to be replaced by a wave of nausea that bellowed up from the depths of your abdomen. Culminating in a fowl taste in the back of your throat as your mouth began to water in preparation for an eventual wave of dry heaves.
The notion of Johnny coming home had completely disappeared from your clouded and overwhelmed mind. The sole thought, single need pushing you forward, was to make it home in one piece and shut out the world. To dissolve yourself in copious amounts of medication and bathe in the defeaning stillness of silent darkness.
--
A single ray of light crept through a break in the blinds as Johnny gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the heavy blackness. Illuminating your pitiful figure wrapped underneath a mountain of blankets as he stepped ever so quietly into the bedroom.
The darkness of the room enveloping his form as he closed the door and shut out the world behind him.
Peeling off his war-torn wardrobe down and kicking off his boots until he was dawning nothing but his boxer briefs.
Your eyes twitched beneath your heavy lids as the muffled sounds of his belt buckle fell into your ears. The cold washcloth draped across your forehead soothing the sounds of his approach as the bed dipped to the addition of his bulking weight.
Still in the grips of immense pain and oppressive sensory overload, the thought of having any sensation of touch in this state at first made you pull away from him.
Yet it was the subtle scent of pine and an undertone of a musk that was so uniquely him wafting into your sinuses that had you nudging yourself back into his encompassing form.
His arm draping over the curve of your torso, meandering underneath the layers of weighted blankets and resting his hand in the center of your abdomen.
"I got'ya, bonnie. I'm 'ere." He said softly on a measured and attentive whisper. His breath fanning over the flesh of your neck as the heat of his body radiated against your pained and inert form.
You didn't respond. You didn't have to. He read the signs of your reply in the gentle touch of your fingers as your hand moved down to drape over his.
Drowning in the effects of medicated analgesia. And aiding to welcome the compassion and tenderness he emitted so naturally as he held you close and kept the world at bay until the pain would slowly begin to drift away.
-
Apologies if this isn't very good. It's all I could manage. But I didn't want to leave SSS empty. Love you all.
Drabbles Masterlist
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rin-fukuroi · 2 months
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𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 [𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲]
Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.
If you want to support me and read my other works that won't be on Tumblr, you can always do it on my Boosty~
Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail
Pairings: yandere!Sunday x fem!reader
Warnings: a bit of obsession and Sunday is the obvious stalker here, but no more triggers.
▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Loluet - I beg you
Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq
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It's so mean to eavesdrop on your thoughts*, but Sunday just can't stop.
You think he's pretty cute when he gives you another gift. You think his appearance is quite attractive for your taste. You think that the smell coming from Sunday, when he accepts your grateful embrace, is so exquisite, to match a man of his position. You think you'd probably feel safe near him.
You think Sunday is a little intrusive. You think he probably has a lot of fans, because he's so handsome. You think that the attention of a man with such a high position on Penacony is burdensome, because you are clearly not his match, so why does he continue to behave as if he is in love with you? You think that you are anxious near him, even though you cannot find any explanation for this feeling that suddenly arises in his presence.
Your thoughts warm Sunday's soul, and they also wound him to a nagging pain in his chest.
He really would like to stop doing this, but he's ready to give you the whole world. Even the dreams in which you are so happy, he'll bring that to life, if you only wish. It's probably corny to mentally promise a star from the sky just for you, but Sunday's ready to make the sky itself fall at your feet if this is the price for your smile. But you don't want any of this. You don't want him.
Why?
It's really so damn hard for Sunday. Helplessness, such disgusting helplessness torments him day by day, while he listens to your voice all day long, wanting to hear what you remember about him. But, as soon as the farewell separates the two of you, such useless thoughts fill your head, in which he has no place. And it's cruel. You're so cruel, but Sunday can't be mad at you.
How pathetic he must look, covering his own face with wings to hide the way his cheeks turn red and the corners of his lips lift in a gentle smile at the mere memory of how your honey voice pronounces his name. But this is not enough. Why not color your voice with brighter colors? Maybe… Red notes that give your tone of adoration and passion? You'll want him, and you'll get him if you just call. Playful pink notes will desire him with airy tenderness. Oh, how beautifully his name will shimmer on your tongue.
«It seems like I've been on Penacony for so long… It's worth coming home»
No, no, honey. Why go back to a place where he's not?
«He's looking at me so strangely again, as if he can read my mind…»
You have a great intuition, that's commendable. Sunday admires you even when his honor as a man and family member is at stake.
«Will Sunday be upset if he finds out that I'm leaving this place soon? Probably not»
Oh, darling, where did you get such thoughts in your lovely head? You're breaking Sunday's heart. How can he let you go? Dreams will lose their magic without you, this beautiful little world will lose light without your smile, the whole universe will lose its voice without the sound of your laughter.
«I guess I should just thank him for everything»
Don't mention it. Sunday would do anything for you. Tell him to rip the heart out of his chest, and he will present you with a bloody pulsating muscle in his palm.
— Y/N, — again this charming smile adorns the already perfect face of a man when he stretches out his hand bending over your figure. — Your hair is disheveled.
He can touch your hair, right? Of course he can. He hears a voice in your head, and you want the same thing, you just can't admit it even to yourself. It's an attraction between you and him… You have to feel it the same way Sunday feels it. He'll help you again, he just need to tweak your memories a little. You'll share with him all the feelings that Sunday experienced all the time spent with you. Desire him, love him, be there for him. That's all he can ask of you. It only takes his palm to touch your cheek…
The heat penetrates into the pores, permeates the skin, flows into the veins, spreading throughout the body until it captures the mind with rainbow waves blurring the eyes. And only the image of Sunday is so clear. You look into golden eyes that meet you with piercing gaze, and you see in them so much pain, torment, from which an unpleasant bitterness knits on the tongue. And then the sweetness. A cloying but airy sweetness. Every piece of sugar that gets into your mouth melts on your tongue, and for some reason an unfamiliar taste evokes so many memories that you seemed to be cruelly deprived of, and now they have returned to you, responding with a tremor in your chest.
«Y/N… listen to my voice»
You know him. This tenderness with which a man pronounces your name is so painfully familiar.
«You're happy here next to me, Y/N»
He's right, but why do his words seem so wrong to you…
«Touch me, Y/N, put your hand on my chest and feel my heart pounding. Just like yours… Aren't we made for each other?»
Of course. Of course, you're made. You can feel it. Soft pulsations touch the fingertips, beating off a sweet melody, so lulling and causing an irresistible desire… But what do you want?
«You're mine, Y/N. And I'm yours, forever»
Exactly. And how could you forget?..
It is so warm and cozy, as if beloved hands are pressing you to your heart, rocking you to an alluring lullaby, involving you in a sweet dream. And it doesn't matter at all if this dream is viscous and sticky, like a spider's web woven just for you. He'll take care of you if you just give up.
— That's better, isn't it?
«Has Sunday always been so… beautiful?» — what kind of strange thoughts are going through your head? Of course, always. The hours spent remembering how pleasant his wings are to the touch, how soft his skin is under your fingers, how pleasant the sound of your name escaping from his lips is, flash before your eyes, like a living reminder of the truth that lurks somewhere so deep, but lying on the surface, if you only dare say it.
You love him. You love him with all your heart, so long ago and so unconditionally that you feel ashamed that you dared to doubt the perfection of his face, the very sight of which is enough to make a muscle in your chest tremble.
The man notices your slight confusion, and grins melodiously.
— I mean the hair, — long eyelashes hang over the irises, shimmering with gold, when Sunday tilts his head to one side, not taking his eyes off you and continuing to smile charmingly.
— Oh, yes … thank you, — you awkwardly look away, and your cheeks involuntarily blush. — You know, I wanted to ask you something.…
The gold is covered with an icy crust, sharp and tingling skin, over which Sunday's gaze slides while you shift from foot to foot, trying to find words.
— Can I… stay here? — you hesitantly look up at the man with an innocent look, quietly uttering the last words. — With you…
«If only he didn't say no… I won't survive this…»
Oh, you're so lovely. Charming, charming, charming.
The ice is cracking, defeated by the vibrations of your sweet voice, which appeals so imploringly to Sunday. Isn't this happiness?
The tips of elegant long gloved fingers rest on your chin, lifting your head before a kiss touches your lips. So needy, oozing with obsession and love, with insane awe, which now seem so familiar to you, as if these feelings were always somewhere nearby, but burst into your heart only now, blooming like forget-me-nots somewhere deep in your chest.
«Don't ever ask again… My love», — it was never said out loud, but you managed to hear Sunday's velvety voice shamelessly invading your consciousness while his lips greedily but slowly devour yours. And you don't mind at all.
Your thoughts, one way or another, from now on will be filled only with him.
*Sunday is a representative of the Halovian species, one of the features of which is reading the thoughts of others, however, the ability to rewrite memories and, in principle, somehow influence the consciousness of another living being is not It is one of the abilities of this species. This ability of Sunday in this work is based on a completely plausible theory that he, like his sister, are Emanators of the Aeon of Harmony, because if we recall our first meeting with Family in the World of Dreams, then we can see how Robin is doing something similar, helping us with the "side effects" of the first immersion in a dream.
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loriannbowman · 18 days
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Honkai: Star Rail X Arknights | Yandere!Sunday X Sankta!Reader
You had no idea how you got to this city of bright lights and sounds. Music seems to pour in from every corner and building. The last thing you remember, is Doctor Loriann sent you to the rec-room and you decided to take a little nap. And now you're 'awake' in this bizarre and unknown city. What seems like thousands of people swarm the streets. Just where the hell are you?
"Excuse me? Are you lost?~" a sweet voice asks you.
You whip your head around to see a man with a halo... and wings sprouting from his head? Sankta have wings, yes, but never from their head... At least not the ones you've met, and you've met quite a few.
"U-Um... Y-Yeah..." you stutter out, unsure if talking to a stranger in a strange place is the best idea.
He looks at you, focusing his gaze on you. You can almost feel the deep set eyes burning into your soul.
"U-Uh... S-Sir...? Why are you-"
His stare grows harder before he looks away, letting out a sigh.
"Are you not a Halovian?"
"Ha-what? Is that some different title for a Sankta?"
"Sankta...?" he whispers under his breath. "You have a halo."
"Y-Yeah... I do..."
"So are you not a Halovian?"
"No."
His eyes seem to sharpen and a small scowl crosses his body.
He steps closer to you. You have no idea what he plans to do until-
He reaches out and touches your halo. You can't help but yelp at the cool touch from his gloved hands.
"So you can feel my touch."
You swat his hand.
"Of course I can!"
"Interesting..."
You push his away, trying to make space.
"A-Anyway, sir, do you know where I am?"
The man tilts his head confused.
"You're in Penacony."
"Pena-wha-? What's with all these names?! Never mind... D-Do you know how I got here?"
"... Did you not enter a dream pool?"
"Dream pool?! Are you-" you shake your head, now is not the time to be rude to someone, "No, no I didn't. The last thing I remember was being on the Rhodes Island Land Ship and going to take a nap."
"Rhodes Island...? I've never heard of that."
"What? Even very secluded people know of Rhodes Island..."
The man hums slightly.
"Interesting... it seems as though... we have a stowaway..."
"Stowaway?! I didn't even mean to come here!"
"Yes, I can clearly see that, however I still need to take you into custody for the protection of the Family and the citizens of Penacony. Though, as a head of the Family myself, I will be taking you with me. It's best if no one else knows of this, it might cause anxiety amongst the people."
"So I'm getting arrested... cool. Doctor, when I get back, you're getting kicked."
❥ Sunday doesn't understand how or why you got here. He monitors the coming and going of every person that enters the dreamscape, and the reverie.
❥ Sunday is confused. He tried to communicate with you through telepathy to keep the conversation privet, yet... you couldn't connect to him.
❥ Sunday keeps you under custody. That custody, however, his by his side at all times. He wants to understand what is with you.
❥ Sunday, who's every thought is slowing shifting to figuring you out. How did you come here? Where are you from? Why do you also have a halo? Why do you know nothing of Aeons and Paths?
❥ Sunday who can't help but itch wanting to pick you apart.
❥ Sunday who doesn't want to let you go, because if you do, he fears he may never see you again, he may never figure out this mystery.
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