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spider-stark · 6 months

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PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

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The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes.

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady.

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly.

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.”

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further.

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.”

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be.

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault.

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.”

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long.

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze.

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care.

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you.

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-”

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!”

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment.

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.”

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother.

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you.

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?”

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well.

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother.

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you.

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?”

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings.

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him.

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant.

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all.

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother.

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.”

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room.

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo.

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck.

And, in many ways, you hate it.

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard.

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself.

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind.

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol.

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight.

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest.

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too.

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors.

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball.

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air.

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you.

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips.

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life.

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear.

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table.

“No!”

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck.

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?”

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table.

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished.

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary.

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?”

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different.

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid.

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!”

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?”

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.”

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent.

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence.

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?”

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe.

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.”

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with.

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-”

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,”

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too.

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!”

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh.

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.”

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising.

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.”

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?”

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.”

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times.

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into.

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel.

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.”

“You could.”

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise.

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.”

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth.

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-”

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.”

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another.

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,”

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.”

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?”

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure.

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.”

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you.

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want.

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon.

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into.

That, for him, it had always been you.

“Aegon, I-”

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.”

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions.

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.”

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it.

“You’re… generous.”

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon.

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.”

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self.

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.”

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression.

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.”

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.”

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.”

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.”

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.”

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age.

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you.

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?”

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.”

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin.

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.”

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.”

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice.

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

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selfshipping-shapeshifter · 4 months

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Character ai has had a choke hold on me for like a few weeks now and I have many stories

#amber rambles about something #also hi how yall doing

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sweetlilbird · 2 years

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Soooo there most likely won't be an update for Where The Daffodils Grow this week; School has been pretty busy and I'm kind of in a bit of a writing funk. I may work on the chapter a little bit this weekend if I have time, but I don't want to rush something out and have it not be any good. I'll be posting the very last chapter of Cash It In since that's been completed for a while, but other than that I'll be kind of radio silent! Sorry about this, everyone, but college is kicking my ass right now and it's only the 2nd week 😭

#amber rambles #wherethedaffodilsgrow #i only have about 1k words so far #but i dont want to post something so short and incomplete lol

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princesajellyfish · 2 months

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Taste me

Rating: Mature (18+ No Minors allowed)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Characters: Laios Touden Content: Smut, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Semi-Public Sex Word count: 3805 Reader has a pussy and and wears a skirt. Everything else is up to interpretation. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Laios, you're so special to me.”

Currently you lay on the hard and rocky floor of the dungeon. Pebbles and sharp edges poked your soft flesh and the back of your head started to ache from being pushed against its hard surface. But how could you possibly pay attention to that when you have the world's most handsome explorer in between your thighs. If you would've known that this is how confessing would've turned out you would've done so much much sooner.

Laios and you had shared mutual attraction for each other for sometime now. You, of course, noticed it much earlier than Laios ever could've. He was such a cutie, even though he was doing his best to hide his affections towards you it was impossible for you not to notice his longing gazes at night by the fire, or the extra portions of food that he would put aside for you. You would have been a fool not to notice any sooner.

Knowing Laios for as long as you have you knew that approaching the subject subtly was not going to work out with Laios. When it came to romance, it was not going to cut it. The love of your life was caring, sweet, and knowledgeable on all things monsters and dungeons, but he was not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to social cues. You didn't mind of course, that was one of the things you found the most endearing about him. No matter how wary he was of other people and their intentions he always did his best to stay as genuine and sincere to himself as he could. The way he was so brave and willing to be unapologetically himself made you look up to him and admire his strong will. But gosh was he dense.

Swallowing your own nerves you knew that if you wanted this relationship to advance anywhere you were going to have to to set things in motion. Not wasting any time one evening after eating a dish that consisted of harpy eggs and vegetables from senshis garden you volunteered to accompany Laios on a quest to find some extra fire material.

Walking alone in the dungeon halls was not the most romantic ambiance or the place where you imagined you would have your love confession in - but this was Laios you had fallen for, confessing here was probably his equivalent of a grandiose cherry blossom confession.

He had been rambling about his dream monster, something he had only spoken to you about, apart from his sister Falin, before you interrupted him. “I'm so sorry Laios, you know I love your monster talk…but there is something important I have to talk to you about.” you wrung your hands into the fabric of your long skirt, twisting and pulling to find confidence in between its threads.

Sensing your nerves Laiois placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and nudged you to turn your body slightly towards him. His gorgeous puppy dog amber eyes peered into yours and scanned your face over, you guessed he was checking you out to see if you had any injuries bothering you. In return you averted his own gaze and stared down at your fidgeting hands. Finally he spoke up to break the silence, “Hey? Everything alright? Did the food not settle well with you?”

Oh silly Laios, always thinking about food, If you weren't so nervous right now you would've laughed at his question. Shaking your head you found the courage to lift your eyes back to his.

You knew that Laios at least held some sort of affection towards you. You were still unsure if it ran as deep and as passionate as your feelings for him but you knew there was something there. You also knew that even if Laios wanted nothing to do with you in that way he would never belittle you for it. He was gentle and kind, a little too much sometimes, but he always treated others with respect. He had never done anything to hurt you purposefully. So you weren't quite sure why you felt so shaken by your attempt to confess. You supposed, that is just what love feels like.

You really hoped it would get a little less scary in the future.

“Laios, I think I love you.”

There, you said it. As blunt and straight to the point as you could, You made sure to leave nothing up to interpretation for Laios. You wanted him to fully understand the gravity of your feelings for him. Feeling anxiety crawl up your throat you quickly added “And it's okay if you don't feel the same way. Or if that's too much too soon. I just wanted you to know.”

The more you spoke the more you felt your voice die in your throat, each word sounding quieter than the last. Laios had still not said a word, but he stared at you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. In this moment you felt like you could puke from your nerves and yet you still thought the man in front you couldn't possibly look any cuter,

Suddenly you heard him take in the biggest breath of air he could muster, alerting you that this man had stopped breathing since you confessed to him, and then exhaled with the most hearty laugh you've ever heard come from him. His cheeks bloomed in hues of reds and pinks, unstoppable rivers of blood that reached the tip of his fingers and pooled to his neck. His eyes blinked rapidly as if he was trying to make sure he wasn't in a dream. “Please,” he hiccuped, “Do you mean it?”

You stared at his face before lowering your gaze to his lips. They were slightly parted and you could get a glimpse of his cute pink tongue. He must've noticed your stares because he let his tongue quickly swipe over his lips to wet them. Gazing back up to his eyes your hand finally let go of its death grip on your skirt and instead gently nestled into the side of his face. “I wouldn't even dream about joking about this Laois.” His eyes suddenly felt too intense for you so you closed your eyes and took another deep breath, “I love you and I can't contain it anymore. From the moment I met you I fell so deeply for you. You're so perfect. So kind.” You rubbed gentle circles on his cheeks, “‘You drive me crazy.”

Every word you spoke felt like a punch to the chest for Laios. In the best way possible. He never knew that hearing you sing such praises about him would affect him so viscerally. To his embarrassment he began to feel his pants become uncomfortably tight. “Not right now,” he thought. He didn't want to ruin your confession with his pervy thoughts.

He brought his hand up to your wrist and held it in his grasp. You observed how his eyebrows crinkled in frustration as he shut his eyes tightly. His breathing seems labored and small beads of sweat began to form on his hairline. If it wasn't for his grasp on your wrist you would have fallen backward from the overwhelming amount of desire you felt for him. Gods…you wanted him so bad.

Taking advantage of his closed eyes you let your own travel. You started off by staring at his lips still moist from his tongue, but your sinful desires seemed to take full control of your actions as you let your eyes wander further down his body. His armor in the way of you admiring his chest annoyed you for a second before you got a glimpse of something better. So this is why he was in deep concentration.

Laios was suddenly shook from his stupor when the sound of your airy laugh reached his ears. Slowly peeking his eyes open he was welcomed by the sight of your beautiful face. Eyes clouded with something he couldn't describe stared directly at his current source of frustration. Gasping he pushed himself back and dropped your wrist as if it had burned him.

He opened his mouth once, twice, three times to attempt and get some words out but for the life of him he couldn't form a single coherent sentence. A thousand things ran through his head and now it was turn to fidget with his hands. Pulling and picking his fingers he turned his body to face the wall behind him. He knew his silence could be taken wrongly and the last thing he wanted was to mess up his chances with the most beautiful woman he’s ever met.

Thankfully, you knew the man you had fallen for better than you knew yourself. So you allowed him to have his moment alone. After all, you were more than pleased with his reaction to your confession.

Finally he turned his head to the side, body still facing the wall, and began to speak up. “I'm sorry, I promise I'm not a perv. I don't know why I'm reacting like this,” He took in another deep breath, “You deserve a more romantic response.”

Giggling you made your way towards him and wrapped your arms around his armored torso, resting your head against his back you let out a content sigh. At this sudden feeling of warmth Laois tensed up before he quickly relaxed in your arms. “You're perfect Laios.”

Fuck.

He was so fucking hard. Did you even know how much power you had over him? How all you had to do was ask him to give you the world and he would do it. You could ask for the moon and the stars and he would spend his entire life figuring out how to do it. He loved you. Oh he loved you so much. Gods, the minute he laid eyes on you for the first time, you introduced him to a thousand new emotions he had no idea what to do with for the first time in his life. He knew what attraction was, and he understood what it meant. But love? This type of love? He wanted to learn everything about it solely with you.

Gaining confidence he flipped his body to face you, careful with your arms as he held them against himself. You could've melted in his arms right then and there, he looked at you with such adoration and love you almost felt bad about how much it excited you…almost. Testing the waters you pushed your body against his, feeling his boner poking your body.

“Hmph- wait (y/n),” his face becoming impossibly more red than before. He laid his head on top of yours and breathed in your scent. There was no way he was going to be able to control himself for much longer if you kept testing him like this.

Feeling bold, and a little impatient, you positioned your arms to wrap around his neck and brought your lips to his ear to whisper “It’s okay baby, I feel the same way too.”

You gently grabbed his, very sweaty, hand and placed it on the hem of your skirt. “I want you Laios,” his fingers curled around the hem, “If you want me too then I'm all yours.”

That was all he needed to hear. Almost too fast your skirt was pooled around your ankles and the cold dungeon air kissed your bare legs. Still pressed against him you not only heard but felt the vibrations of his almost animalistic growl he released.

Gently separating from him you reached for the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off, discarding it on the floor. You wished there was a way to permanently tattoo the sight of Laios staring at you as if you were an angel sent from above into your eyelids. He made you feel so loved, so beautiful. One of the many reasons why you fell in love with him.

He quickly reached out for you once more and attacked your lips with his tongue, he wanted, no he needed, to taste you. Hot breaths melted into each other and moans danced together in the air. Your fingers wrapped around his ash blonde locks and slightly pulled whenever he would bite down on your lower lip with his teeth. As dreamy as this felt, there was still something bothering you. Tilting your head away from Laios you watched as he instinctively tried to follow your lips before you rested your palm against his. “I dont think it's really fair that I'm the only one half naked here.”

Gasping at your confession Laios began to fumble with his armor. Amused you watched as he clumsily pulled it off with a sense of urgency. Now Laios was not the type of person to hyperfixate on his body. He never really put in the time to debate whether he was handsome or not. His mind was always preoccupied with monsters, food, dungeons, and only recently you. But now that you were in front of him, waiting and watching, he felt the ugly sensation of insecurity make its way into his mind. Maybe you would take one look at his body and wish you were with someone more toned and ripped. He wasn't the skinniest guy, and for the first time ever he didn't like that.

You noticed he was hesitating with removing his shirt and it honestly broke your heart. So you approached him and placed your hands on either side of his cheeks, squishing the fat causing his face to contort into an adorable little pout. “We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with love,” you gave him a little peck on his pouty lips, ”But trust me when I say I love you. ALL of you. Including your body.”

Oh…you were not real. That's all Laios could think. How on earth was there such a perfect person? An actual Goddess walking amongst mere mortals like him. How did someone as perfect as you fall for someone as strange as him? He didn't notice it but his eyes started to sparkle with unshed tears. For so long he's been alienated from this type of affection. Something he didn't know was bothering him deep down inside until he finally got it from you.

He swore right then and there he would do anything to make you feel good. If you were a goddess then he was your most loyal worshiper. He finally removed his undershirt and stood before you bare chested. Before you had time to admire him he kneeled at your feet. “Laios? What are you doing?”

“(y/n)...” He lifted your right foot and placed gentle kisses on it, “I'm going to show you just how much I love you.”

Your words died in your throat as you watched him begin to trail his kisses from your foot to your ankle, and from your ankle to your leg. Every time his lips made contact with your skin your core pulsed with desire. His eyes never breaking contact with yours. Mentally imprinting your cute expressions and sounds into his mind forever. Finally he arrived at your inner thigh, its plushness making his dick twitch with excitement. If he wasn't so far gone he would've been a little embarrassed. But just a little.

He tried, he really did try, to control his impulses and not bite that delicious plush skin. But alas he was still a man, and you were so cute, so so cute. You jolted and gripped his hair when you felt his blunt teeth push down on your thigh, it hurt, but it felt so right. This continued on for a while before you started to lose your patience. You needed to be touched and he was taking too long, ignoring the most sensitive part of you. Bucking your hips you anchored his face to your core and held him there with your grip on his hair, not missing the moan he let out at your sudden dominance. “Then stop teasing and show me just how much you love me.”

His hands gripped your hips and he pressed his nose in between your folds, fuck you smelled so good. He was inexperienced with pussy but he was a professional eater, so he let his instincts take over. Pushing your underwear down he wasted no time connecting his tongue to your sensitive folds. He began by lapping up your delicious juices, immediately trying to guess what the flavor resembled. It was a bit tangy but somehow had a little bit of sweetness to it. He wondered if the food you had eaten today affected its taste, specifically the candy they had made with the dungeon spirits. This only made his cock impossibly more hard, already planning on tasting your delicious pussy every night after a good meal just to see how much it affected the way you tasted. Fuck was he in deep.

Wanting to get a better taste he searched for your hole and once he located it he wasted no time pushing his tongue inside, fucking you with it. You began to roll your hips on his face, trying to meet the pace of his tongue. Your freed one of your hands from its deathly grip on his hair and moved it towards your clit. As good as Laios was making you feel, you needed a little more stimulation. This of course was not missed by him.

Separating from your core with an obscene pop, he looked up at you, his mouth, chin, and even his nose glistening with your juices. “Please (y/n), teach me where to touch you.”

Oh you were much deeper than him. But how could you not be?

Pushing yourself off the wall you were previously leaning on for stability you decided to lay down. Spreading your legs you used your hands to spread your pussy for Laios to observe. “This right here is called the clit, this is the most sensitive area.” He nodded along with extreme enthusiasm. Typical Laios you thought.

“You can rub it, lick, or suck on it.” You then inserted two fingers into your wet hole. “You already know what this is, but if you finger me here while licking my pussy-” a small whine managed to escape your lips, “You'll make me cum in no time baby.”

This brings us to where this originally started. With you writhing and moaning against the harsh dungeon floor as Laios abused your swollen pussy in every which way. So lost into your pleasure you couldn't even tell what was his tongue and what was his fingers anymore. Meanwhile Laios was having the time of his life in between your legs. While he was pleasuring your cunt, savoring, sucking, lapping, and overall devouring you, his hips bucked into the floor, chasing his own release. He could cum just by eating you out.

You felt your legs begin to shake involuntarily, and you knew what this meant. “Laois! Im- Im-!”

He knew exactly what you were trying to say by the way your legs began to grip his head “Mmph, cum for me baby.”

He flattened his tongue on your clit and began bobbing his head side to side as fast as he could, occasionally stopping to suck on it with fervor. Meanwhile his fingers were pistoning your hole, curling inside to find your sweet spot. A sudden hot flash of pleasure completely took over your body and you couldn't contain yourself from gushing your orgasm all over his face. You swore you saw white as you let out your release.

Laios felt so good he could cry. Your taste, your moans, your pussy, your everything was too overwhelming. He wanted more and at the same time couldn't handle it. With one last buck to the floor he felt his own searing release take over his body. Cumming in his underwear the vibrations of his own moan electrifying your cunt.

After a few moments of you both catching your breaths and riding out your orgasms in bliss the reality of where you were hit you both like a ton of bricks.

Oops.

You prayed the rest of your party members were too distracted with their own chores to have heard the sinful indulgences you and Laios participated in. In the middle of the dungeon no less. Oh well, you were too content with the man who was currently laying on top of you to really care. Unfortunately you knew that they would eventually come looking for the two of you if you took too long to return. Patting his back you pushed your body off the ground with your forearm and placed a gentle kiss on his head.

Moving his head to look into your eyes he let out a gentle sigh. Clearly not ready to let go and head back just yet. He pressed a few kisses into your neck and hugged you tightly. He finally had you. Giggling you proceeded to sit up all the way and grabbed his face to attack him with kisses. Once you landed on his lips you noticed how you could taste yourself against him.

“GUYS! WHERE ARE YOU?!” That was definitely Marcille.

FUCK!

You both quickly scrambled to your feet and frantically searched for your discarded clothing, almost painfully pulling it on your bodies. Neither one of you had time to wipe down which caused you both to cringe a little. But that was better than being caught in such an intimate position by someone you both respected and cared about. Plus the embarrassment you would feel later would surely keep you up for nights on end.

You quickly turned to Laios and without thinking ran your hands through his hair in an attempt to make it look presentable. If you weren't so focused you wouldn't have missed the pure look of awe and admiration he held for you at that moment.

“There you are! We were beginning to get worried.” turning the corner, Marcille stood with a hand against her chest, letting out a deep sigh.

“Huh what happened to you guys! You look like you just ran a marathon or something! Did you encounter any monsters?!”

At the mention of monsters Laios quickly spoke up and formulated a very abstract lie about you and him getting chased by some creature. You honestly couldn't focus much on what he was saying, just being grateful that your man had all the knowledge in the world about monsters to create a believable story. Grabbing his hand you squeezed it. A wordless gesture that meant the world to the both of you.

Now you wondered, when you were going to be able to return the favor to him.

.............................................................................................................................

AN: Hello!!! Thanks for reading this very self indulgent fic I wrote at my very adult job LOL. In case you couldn't tell this man has me in a chokehold. This is my very first time posting my writing and my first time writing a "x reader" fic. So I apologize if it feels a lil ooc at times.

I think I'd like to continue writing for Dungeon Meshi and possibly for other fandoms, so if you guys have any requests my inbox is always open. :3

#laios dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon laios #laios touden #laios x reader #laios touden x reader #laios touden x you #laios touden smut #laios touden my beloved #delicious in dungeon #dunegon meshi #x reader #smut

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youareunbearable · 1 year

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Welp, I've now seen too much evidence of that Thingol Was A Bitch About The Nauglamir post causing Problems and ppl like deep diving into my opinion that I might just delete it before it breaks containment even more

#amber rambles #ambers being a whiney bby again #i love interacting with the silm fandom but there is just something nauseating #about academically inclined ppl just like politely calling my experiences and opinions #as an Indigenous woman Not Correct and just shitting on my little narrative tale about it #not to mention other ppl have now gotten asks about it after they reblogged it #ill just delete it maybe change some things and remove some stuff snd just have it be a narrative meta #and add it as a small chapter on my a03 slim fic collection but like ehhhhh

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

#pre-steddie #my fic #prompt #sophomore eddie is a jerk #but only because he thinks steves gonna be a jerk first so hes gotta beat him to it #also steves very mean to eddie in his thoughts but its only his thoughts #tw: minor character death #its an oc tho #tw: suicide implied but not stated

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danikamariewrites · 4 months

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The Hand Thing (SMUT)

Eris x reader

Note: I feel like this is unnecessarily long but I will never pass up an opportunity to drool over Eris soooo that’s whats’s happening here. I’m also a huge slut for Mr. Darcy and the hand flex video came up on my TikTok so blame pride & prejudice for this one. This is part of the Corrupt story and I have linked Kisses and Romance Books :)

Warnings: mentions of oral sex, fingering

Eris’s hands are enchanting to watch. They’re strong and powerful, directing the Autumn army as their general and wielding the fire that runs fiercely through his veins.

They’re elegant in the way he writes, his calligraphy nothing less than perfect. Elegant in the way he ties and buttons his clothes.

But those slender, pale freckled fingers are most enchanting when they hold you. You feel so at peace in Eris’s embrace. His hands mold perfectly to the curves of your body, gripping your hips and the nape of your neck. They make you feel at home when he rubs circles on your back and threads his fingers through your hair. And when you're cold or in pain, Eris uses the fire in his veins to comfort you, heating his hands.

Now, sitting across from Eris at his grand oak desk, you watch as Eris flexes his fingers as he thinks. Balling his fist, resting his chin on the top of it as he lets out a sigh.

You just wanted to reach out and hold the tense limb. To press soft kisses across his knuckles. As you continue to think about your mates hands your thoughts divulge into dirty and depraved. Wanting more than him to hold you. Wanting…no.

You two haven’t done more than kissing and Eris eating you out. Your cheeks heat at the thought of your activities from a few days ago. While the feeling of his mouth against your pussy was euphoric, you couldn’t help but think about his hands squeezing at your things. The small bruises he left behind from how hard he dug the tips of his fingers into your flesh.

Letting out another aggravated sigh Eris leans against his high back chair. Not noticing that you’ve been staring intently at him for the last thirty minutes.

His hooded gaze traveled from the papers in front of him to your untouched book.

Those beautiful amber eyes landed on your face, noticing how your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth. Your own gaze focused on his large hands. “Something on your mind, little fox.” Eris teases. You let out a hum, snapping back to yourself. “Sorry my love, did you say something?”

Eris smirked at the airiness in your voice, flexing his hand, rubbing his jaw. You noticed the veins bulge a little on the back of his hand. Eris noticed what you were honed in on finally. His smirk grows at the realization.

His fingers curl, beckoning you to him. Plopping yourself in his lap you don’t hesitate to hold the hand that’s been your focus for the past hour. You lightly run your fingers across his palm and tracing up his fingers. Eris watches you with a love sick look plastered on his face.

He was already taken with you when you first met, but after becoming mates Eris knew he was done for. He couldn’t get enough of you. The male was truly in love with you.

“I want to know what they feel like.” You say, your voice just above a whisper. “What what feels like, my heart?” He asks softly. Meeting Eris’s russet gaze, your cheeks heat. Your lips part slightly as you try to get your words out. “Don’t be embarrassed heart, you can tell me anything. Promise.”

Inhaling deeply through your nose you let out a sigh. “I-I want your fingers, like in my romance novels. But like that thing you did with your mouth,” you rambled on, the signs of Eris’s arousal going over your head. The male could only stare at you wide eyed, lips slightly parted. The hand that rests on your hip tenses, grabbing your attention. “What?” You ask innocently.

Eris shook his head, still in disbelief. He was so proud of you for asking for something instead of waiting for him to show you. Slowly but surely he corrupting his sweet innocent mate. Making you needy for him and him alone.

“I’m happy. Happy that you trust me and want to explore these things with me.” You light up at his words, holding his hand to your chest. Batting your eyelashes at Eris you ask, “Can we now? I want Er, so bad.” You punctuated your words with a pout. Mother above, this is not going to make what Eris has to say next hard.

He folds your hands in his warm ones, bringing them to his lips, placing soft kisses across your knuckles. “Unfortunately we can’t right now, little fox.” You frown damn near broke his heart. “I have to finish work but tonight, I promise. Ok?” You nod and he pecks your lips as a thank you.

——

After dinner you wait for Eris in his bed chambers. You had brought extra clothes for tomorrow so you wouldn’t have to creep back to your rooms in the morning. Even though you were right next to him. Still, you didn’t want to be spotted in your nightgown by the maids.

You perched yourself on the middle of his large bed, picking at the soft cream comforter as you waited. The bond in your chest thrummed. Eris was close. As he got closer and closer you felt that wonderful warm sensation grow. The first door opened and you perked up with excitement.

As he opened the bedroom door you jumped off the bed, running and flinging yourself into his arms. Eris scooped you up effortlessly, hugging you to his chest as he walked back to the bed. Laying you down Eris propped himself on his elbows above you. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. He feels your smile against his lips, using his tongue to prod your lips open.

Pulling away Eris presses kisses to your cheeks and nose. “You look exquisite little fox.” He murmurs, eyes drifting down your cleavage to the lace and silk clinging to your form. His fingers lightly tracing your thighs that are still sporting bruises, though faint, from the last time he was between your legs. “Are you ready?” Eris breathed out.

“Yes,” you practically whine. Smirking, Eris slowly moves down your body. Running his hands up and down your thighs, the tips of his fingers flirting with the hem of your nightgown. “Please.” You beg him.

Eris pushes the silk up past your belly button pressing more kisses against your hips. Closing your eyes at the sensation you miss his hand move to your clothed core. Eris starts to rub your clit in small circles. You suck in a sharp breath, your hips jolting.

As soon as Eris could feel the wet spot on your panties grow he sticks his hand down your panties. His rough fingers touch your clit and you gasp. Your eyes flutter open to watch his movements. “Off,” you moan.

“What was that little fox?” Eris teased. “Take them off, p-please.” Another moan slipping between your tightly pulled lips. “Of course little fox.” Eris pulled your panties down with ease, tossing them to the floor.

His fingers return to your pussy, running his fingers through your wet folds. A growl sounds from Eris’s throat at feeling this new part of you. Last time Eris had neglected to dip his fingers in you, obsessed with the taste of you.

Eris slid one of his fingers inside you. Curling against your walls to get you used to the feel of him. And the feel of him was amazing. Much better than your own and even better than what you had imagined Eris’s fingers would be like this afternoon.

You go limp against the bed, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders. You moan as he adds another finger pushing all the way in to his knuckles. “Eris, that feels so good.” You breathe out.

He drops his face to your neck, licking and nipping to keep you stimulated. Your hands fly to his hair to tug at the firey strands.

As his fingers curl against your g-spot you feel his thumb press hard against your clit. Your mouth opens in a silent scream. Eris rubs your clit as he keeps thrusting his fingers. A moan falls from your open mouth right next to his. “So tight fox. You’re doing so good for me.”

You squeeze around his fingers making Eris groan. That feeling at the bottom of your stomach growing, a knot about to snap as Eris keeps pleasing you. “P-please Eris, please, please let me cum. Your fingers feel so good, please.”

Cauldron, your sweet begging is going to be the end of him. Eris loved you like this.

“Go ahead sweet fox. Let go, I got you.” He says sweetly. A few more pumps of his fingers had you coming all over his perfect hand.

Coming down from your high you hugged Eris to your chest. Not ready to let go of him just yet. His weight comforting on top of you. Eris pulled his fingers from you, lightly kissing up your jaw as he sat up. You watch with wide doe eyes as Eris licks his fingers clean of you.

You grab his hand, attempting to pull it back down to you but he was unmoving. “More,” you whimper. Your eyelids looked heavy as you blinked up at him. How were you so tired from just this, he thought to himself. Cauldron, what would you be like the day he actually ruins you with his cock?

“Not tonight, little fox. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed yeah,” Eris scoops you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. Ready to pamper you and keep you in his arms all night.

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