#and the stuff i DO want to keep is safe on ao3

[hexhomos]

Maybe I’m that one oomf that’s too woke, but I have a feeling that people being weird about jayvik is a sign of Bad Things on the rise =/ I’m old as balls and I’ve been in fandom spaces since late 2000s, and I’ve never seen people act so hostile towards a fanon mlm ship. I mean precisely in women and queer dominated fandom spaces, dudebros never change, whatever. And of course there were always ship wars. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen people act so oppressed over being into het ships, crash out over their ships not being endgame and demand from fandom content creators to accommodate them. What is happening.

I think this started happening around 2023~ to be more precise bc that's when i started getting weird ass entitled comments on OTHER gay ships. IMHO the real issue here is that we are going through fandom clash with a newgen that did not experience early internet and they take the gayness in fandom spaces completely for granted. As in, they think these little niche holes we've built are the de facto 'effortless norm' and minimize the work that's been done to create these safe spaces. This is the kind of rhetoric i keep seeing pop up:

Many of them have also grown up almost exclusively interacting with art created by old fandom graduates where queerness is presented casually. They're not watching shit from the 90's or 00's. They're not adults, so they don't have a personal contrast experience seeing that 'rep' dwindling consistently over the years. They don't remember a time before this and don't know how bad it was.

OFC there are always old ass conservative weirdos riding on this wave to be even more annoying (certain infamous viktor stan accs... lol!) but #backtotradition rightwing bullshit has been on the rise worldwide, and so are the viral tiktok tradwife alphamale detransition white supremacy grifters. Its a larger cultural problem feeding into the micro stuff we see daily and it's terrible. It's also why I tune this shit out and I stand my ground. I'll draw what I WANT to draw and I'm not going to be twisting myself into pretzel shapes to appeal to anyone and everyone; go get YOUR shit elsewhere!

I *do* think people have been getting way more entitled towards fanworks, and that comes with a heightened level of apathy. You can notice this on the decreased number and quality of feedback across twitter, as an example (seeing as that place has been consumed by the conservative grifter wave) but it's also been reported by every fic writer who's consistently used AO3 for years. Tags on tumblr aren't as widely used. The focus on 'community' has been replaced by 'DOES THIS MAXIMIZE ENGAGEMENT?'. I know from personal experience that there is this one specific asshole who, for almost a year now, has been trawling the trans viktor tag and leaving insanely long transphobic critique comments on works of newer writers to discourage them from writing. (They are always on the cusp of open violent transphobia, but shittily cloaked as 'debates' on ~natural biology~ and fantasy logic so they don't get banned. If you've seen the ao3 pfp of a smirking white haired woman before you know who im talking about.)

Things have been Bad and on the Rise for a while now. Look at the current shit on the news. Look at the presidencies around the world. And it's going to get worse before it gets better, because it always does; that's what forces people to wake up. Be annoying. Be watchful. Don't waste your time platforming or debating weirdos that should be left to die on obscurity - this is how trump got a memeable platform, and look at where we are now. Protect your peace.

[bakedbakermom]

saying ao3 needs to censor certain content is like saying a museum can't have still life art that includes strawberries because you don't like them.

these are not real strawberries. you do not have to, and in fact cannot, eat them. no one with a strawberry allergy will be harmed by looking at them. no migrant workers were exploited in the picking of these strawberries. there were no questionable farming practices or negative environmental impacts from growing or transporting them.

because - and i cannot stress this enough - they are not real strawberries.

if you don't like strawberries, you don't have to look at the paintings. in fact, you can get a map of the museum that lists what works are in what rooms and just. not go in there. if you see one by mistake, you can look away. just keep walking. there's plenty of other stuff to see.

yes, real strawberries can cause real quantifiable harm to real people.

but again. these are not real strawberries.

you may have whatever feelings you like about strawberries, and so can i. you can draw and write about whatever fruit floats your boat, and so can i, even if that happens to be strawberries. and we can hang our art side by side in the same gallery, provided you understand that my strawberries are not about you (and your kumquats are, shocker, not about me) and that - and this is true - neither are real.

and when the fascists break down the doors and grab all the strawberry paintings and heap them in the street and set them on fire, please know that they are coming for your kumquats next.

so if you want a place where you can show off your beautiful kumquat art safely, you're gonna have to tolerate having some strawberries in the next room.

and that's okay. because the strawberries aren't real.

[trainsinanime]

I've seen a number of people worried and concerned about this language on Ao3s current "agree to these terms of service" page. The short version is:

Don't worry. This isn't anything bad. Checking that box just means you forgive them for being US American.

Long version: This text makes perfect sense if you're familiar with the issues around GDPR and in particular the uncertainty about Privacy Shield and SCCs after Schrems II. But I suspect most people aren't, so let's get into it, with the caveat that this is a Eurocentric (and in particular EU centric) view of this.

The basic outline is that Europeans in the EU have a right to privacy under the EU's General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), an EU directive (let's simplify things and call it an EU law) that regulates how various entities, including companies and the government, may acquire, store and process data about you.

The list of what counts as data about you is enormous. It includes things like your name and birthday, but also your email address, your computers IP address, user names, whatever. If an advertiser could want it, it's on the list.

The general rule is that they can't, unless you give explicit permission, or it's for one of a number of enumerated reasons (not all of which are as clear as would be desirable, but that's another topic). You have a right to request a copy of the data, you have a right to force them to delete their data and so on. It's not quite on the level of constitutional rights, but it is a pretty big deal.

In contrast, the US, home of most of the world's internet companies, has no such right at a federal level. If someone has your data, it is fundamentally theirs. American police, FBI, CIA and so on also have far more rights to request your data than the ones in Europe.

So how can an American website provide services to persons in the EU? Well… Honestly, there's an argument to be made that they can't.

US websites can promise in their terms and conditions that they will keep your data as safe as a European site would. In fact, they have to, unless they start specifically excluding Europeans. The EU even provides Standard Contract Clauses (SCCs) that they can use for this.

However, e.g. Facebook's T&Cs can't bind the US government. Facebook can't promise that it'll keep your data as secure as it is in the EU even if they wanted to (which they absolutely don't), because the US government can get to it easily, and EU citizens can't even sue the US government over it.

Despite the importance that US companies have in Europe, this is not a theoretical concern at all. There have been two successive international agreements between the US and the EU about this, and both were struck down by the EU court as being in violation of EU law, in the Schrems I and Schrems II decisions (named after Max Schrems, an Austrian privacy activist who sued in both cases).

A third international agreement is currently being prepared, and in the meantime the previous agreement (known as "Privacy Shield") remains tentatively in place. The problem is that the US government does not want to offer EU citizens equivalent protection as they have under EU law; they don't even want to offer US citizens these protections. They just love spying on foreigners too much. The previous agreements tried to hide that under flowery language, but couldn't actually solve it. It's unclear and in my opinion unlikely that they'll manage to get a version that survives judicial review this time. Max Schrems is waiting.

So what is a site like Ao3 to do? They're arguably not part of the problem, Max Schrems keeps suing Meta, not the OTW, but they are subject to the rules because they process stuff like your email address.

Their solution is this checkbox. You agree that they can process your data even though they're in the US, and they can't guarantee you that the US government won't spy on you in ways that would be illegal for the government of e.g. Belgium. Is that legal under EU law? …probably as legal as fan fiction in general, I suppose, which is to say let's hope nobody sues to try and find out.

But what's important is that nothing changed, just the language. Ao3 has always stored your user name and email address on servers in the US, subject to whatever the FBI, CIA, NSA and FRA may want to do it. They're just making it more clear now.

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

EDIT: read the expanded fic on AO3 :)

[lilacxquartz]

Can you write a homicipher fic with Mr crawling where Mc is deep cleaning their apartment and he's confused on what exactly they're doing and just like doing domestic stuff? Thank you!💜💜💜

in an attempt to clean;

mr. crawling x reader/mc

plot: you do all sorts of curious things but mr. crawling still can’t quite understand some behaviours — a/n: i hooope this is what you wanted!! like my mind ran with mr. crawling perhaps being sentimental about the stuff you cleaned up, so i went with it, aha, mc is in the real world here and mr. crawling is like, a live-in guard ghost — themes: gn!reader, domestic fluff, character study — w.c: 1.1k • ao3 • masterlist ✮⋆˙

Even if he didn’t quite understand the order of the world that you came from, Mr. Crawling still tried his very best to adapt to you and your way of living. He was perfectly happy just living in your home and existing within your space, finding every nook and cranny to be deeply fascinating. Every other surface had a hint of your scent, with other places, like the bedroom, signaling your once lingering presence—like a signature.

He traced around the areas where such things were left behind, from empty bowls from where you had breakfast to where your dirty laundry was thrown off to the side after a long day. This often led you to pause and tilt your head at such odd behaviour, but you also didn’t quite mind. He did many odd things, after all, such as hovering around in the corners of your home, watching you from a distance while you worked on… whatever it was that needed doing.

Had this been any other situation, you would have probably tried to flush him away with the help of a local shaman, but it was all fine. You brought him back with you for a reason. He wasn’t malicious at all, at least not to you. If anything, he was a little like a guard ghost—determined to keep you safe—no matter what.

However, at some point, too much of your ‘presence’ was left behind and you had to talk yourself into committing to a deep clean. You had admittedly put it off for his sake, finding his almost, enticed state of wonder to be endearing, but a clean space meant a clean mind, or however the saying went.

And things had to go.

At a glance, the apartment was a complete mess. Dust clung to the walls and tables, and there were dirty socks in every other direction. Trash was also becoming something of a problem and for it to not get any worse than it already was—something had to be done—before it was past the point of no return.

Just as you were about to dive in towards fulfilling your task, however, you felt Mr. Crawling’s presence materialise right behind you like a sudden, looming shadow and sure enough, when you turned around, he was right behind you. He was now Mr. Standing more like, you internally tutted, given that he no longer took the liberty to pad around on his hands and knees anymore, instead filling out the whole stretch of room. From the floor to the ceiling, he made himself known.

“What… you… doing?” he asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. He had his finger pointed towards the bin bag in your hand, seeming almost alarmed.

“Cleaning…?” you replied, demonstrating taking some trash from the coffee table and dropping it into the bag. As you did so, his hand flinched away and he seemed rather upset.

“Object… away?” he asked.

“Yes,” you nodded, quickly filling up the bag with more and more pieces of trash that were otherwise littering the surfaces, all the while he seemed to twitch at the very sight, as if he wanted for you to stop but wasn’t sure how to ask you of such a thing.

And before you could continue on your spree any further, Mr. Crawling took a step forward, confiscating an empty crisps packet right from your hands. In turn, you raised an eyebrow, jumping up to grab it from him, but he kept it purposefully out of your reach.

“Give it back,” you huffed, unsure what exactly has gotten into him.

“No,” he shook his head, his tone sounding rather petulant, “I keep.”

You blinked a couple of times, sounding exasperated. “W-why?”

“Treasure,” Mr. Crawling could only reply, clutching the piece of trash to his chest like it was the most sacred item.

You withdrew a deep sigh. Of course, Mr. Crawling had gained some sort of attachment from the things he saw you use. It was actually sort of oddly sweet if it didn’t have the possibility of attracting bugs and potentially growing mould.

“I’m not throwing everything away,” you tried to reason, gesturing at what got put into drawers and what didn’t, “just the trash, the…” you trailed off, trying to find an appropriate word that you both knew, “the dirt.”

Mr. Crawling hesitated, looking at the crisp packet in his hands. “D-dirt… bad?”

Finally, it clicked. At last! You were finally getting somewhere. Oh, how you loved to see him understand you. It was so rewarding, but also, you almost felt bad at just how upset he sounded, but it had to go. “Yes, very bad. Dirt makes… people… sick,” you tried to charade out next, performing a show of you clutching your stomach and looking nauseous.

“Sick?” he asked, trying to understand before looking even more alarmed than when he had first seen you pick up the trash to begin with. “Sick, bad! Sick, bad!”

Before you could respond however, he was in the process of obliterating that poor crisp packet into nothingness, so you warily had to approach him, pluck it right out of his wary hands, and mime out the rest of your intent. When you took hold of the package, you feigned sickness, and then when it entered the bag, you acted right as rain again. All healthy while looking very much alive.

At first, he was horrified at your display but then seemed to get the memo, glancing around at what could potentially make you sick and what was fine to hold onto and so, over the course of the next hour, you slowly but surely got through a deep cleaning session while he kept bringing you all sorts of objects—perhaps missing the memo as to what counted as clean and what counted as dirty—but at least you were finally, actually getting somewhere.

Things like broken mugs were brought to you, along with more empty packets and forgotten socks alike. Some things he was much more defensive about throwing away, but you let him keep the stuff that you were certain wouldn’t actually bring strange things into your home, like that torn and tatted baggy hoodie you had—he refused to let that one go.

“Why do you want to even… keep that?” you asked, watching him cosy up to the piece of clothing.

“Smells… you,” he gleefully replied, taking a deep whiff of the fabric before towering over you, repeating the motion against the crook of your neck, “smells… good.”

“Ah,” you smiled a little, not protesting a single bit, “yeah, you can keep that.”

You supposed that life with Mr. Crawling, after all this time, was still a messy sort of affair, but that much was fine. It was moments like these that made it all worthwhile, reminding you of why you wanted him to stay in the first place.

Even if it did mean that things took forever to get done now.

[astarionancuntnin]

Midnight's Embrace

summary: you can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep. your fight with the netherbrain is approaching fast and your anxiety is only increasing. halsin proposes to try a special brand of herbs to alleviate your mind. turns out this herb also awoke something else in you.

rating: E

word count: 3k

pairing: astarion x you x halsin (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. smut, porn with no plot, late act 3 business, reader is tav, massage turning into something more, polyamory, reader is sandwiched between her two bfs, recreational drug use, stoned sex, mildly dubious consent due to drug intake (reader & astarion), praise kink, threesome, dry humping, blood/vampire bites, unprotected sex, anal fingering and penetration, double penetration, creampie, aftercare, overall sane safe and as consensual as one can be under the influence.

a/n: taking a smol break from my angsty writing to deliver some smut goodness. hope you enjoy! (i sure did)

a/n²: this is absolutely self-indulgent stuff and i will not be sorry about it. i wish i had two loving boyfriends fucking me while i was high, is that so much to ask

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below ~

You can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep.

Since your arrival in Baldur’s Gate, your nights have been restless, and your anxiety related to your upcoming fight with the Netherbrain has only increased. It’s not uncommon for you to wake up sweating in the middle of the night, panting, and checking your surroundings. You feel as if you’re only one inconvenience away from crumbling and your lovers are worried about you. You keep trying to reassure them that you’ll be fine once the Netherbrain is dealt with, but they won’t hear you out; you’ve only ever taken care of your companions since the start. Everyone has found their peace but you. 

Halsin and Astarion urged you to start to focus on yourself, and you wanted to, but the truth is you had no idea where to start; you were used to taking care of everyone else, your own wellbeing never crossed your mind. One night, after Astarion feeds on you, he mentions how tense you are, and that he would gladly massage your neck to help with the tension you've accumulated. This makes you think about asking your other companions about their own techniques to decompress. Throughout the day, you ask around: “what do you do when you’re stressed out?” Shadowheart mentions that she meditates and stretches, and while it’s not a bad idea, with your mind constantly racing, you doubt you’d be able to easily meditate. Lae’zel mentions practice dueling, which she usually partakes with Wyll, and although it seems to be working for them, you wanna try to avoid more fighting before your upcoming fight. 

That’s when Halsin tells you about the medicinal benefits of some herbs, and how they could help you relax. Although you’ve never tried, you’re open to the idea; you’ll try anything that could potentially ease your night terrors. You spend the next day marching the streets to reach an herb shop. As you enter, a lady greets you cheerfully, offering her help to find you exactly what you need. They offered a great variety of consumables infused with their many strands available : pastries, desserts, drinks and potions, candies; if you could imagine it, they had it. The lady explains the effect each of their products have and their specialities. After looking around, you settle on a cookie with Midnight’s Embrace, a sleep inducing herb. You thank her and head back to the Elfsong for the night.

You finish your meal with the special cookie and soon after, you bid your companions goodnight before fetching your partners to accompany you through the night. After all, you still intend on holding Astarion to his word about that massage he mentioned the other night, and Halsin promised to be by your side as this was your first time consuming something like this.

You had reserved the room with the biggest bed they had, just for this occasion.  You reach for the bed first, lying comfortably on your chest, ready for your long-awaited massage. Halsin is next to join you, removing his shirt to get comfortable before sitting next to you with his back against the headboard, and Astarion joins soon after, kneeling behind you. The pale elf straightens up before laying his hands on your back, wasting no time to work through the knots in your tired muscles. The relief you feel is almost instant.

Halsin combs through your hair, pushing it aside to reveal your blissful face. “How are you feeling?”

“Sooooo good. A massage was the best idea.”

As it turns out, the massage combined with the herb-induced dessert enhanced each other, as the effect of the cookie you ingested earlier had already started settling in. When the lady mentioned they were “fast-acting”, you didn’t expect almost spontaneous-acting. Your skin feels more sensitive – in a good way – but you know that it’s the effect of the drugs, as if every touch was the softest caress you’ve received, and you found yourself leaning in the vampire's strong and graceful grip, only wanting more. As he makes his way to your lower back, a few unconscious moans escape your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I take it that you’re enjoying yourself, then?” Astarion asks, smiling, in response to your moaning.

“It’s just… your hands…” you sigh content, leaning into his touch. “They feel amazing.”

“I'm happy to provide, my love.”

His dexterous hands turn you to putty and you wish you could feel more, every inch of your body yearning for attention. He keeps working on your back while you reach out to Halsin, his much bigger hand holding yours tightly. You slightly turn your head to be able to look at him.

“I… want you to touch me too.”

“Tell me where you need me, my heart.”

“Can you hold me? I want to be held by you two.”

The two men look at each other in understanding before repositioning themselves on each side of you ; Astarion hugging your waist from behind, nuzzling himself in the crook of your neck, and Halsin sheltering you in his arms, his head resting on top of yours.

The effects of the cookie kept getting stronger : you felt lighter, more peaceful and happier, your mind was clear from any lingering anxiety, only taking in the love surrounding you. In the comfort of their arms, you let your hands roam over the archdruid's chest, exploring each crevasse. The drugs made you more sensitive, especially down there, and it doesn’t take you long to feel a familiar warmth pool down to your stomach. You gently rub your thighs together, chasing the feeling growing between your legs, when you feel the man behind you slightly pull away. 

“Hold on, are you–” He raises his head to look down your waist, “Oh, you little devil. You are touching yourself!”

It seems that you had lost all awareness, not realizing your movements were brushing against Astarion’s groin. Your blood rushes to your face and you suddenly feel warm, “I– Gods, I didn't realize–”

He clicks his tongue, “None of that. We're here for you to feel better, remember? Now, tell us, what does your heart desire?”

“I…” You feel bashful for all the thoughts swirling around your mind, unable to speak them aloud: you wish to be taken at once by both of your lovers, having them make you feel whole as they fill you with their love, touch, kiss, bite, every part of your body. Surely, you're influenced by the herbs, but you can't deny that even sober, the thoughts have crossed your mind. The drugs simply allowed them to wander freely and amplify them slightly. 

You finally manage to get a few words out, barely expressing the full extent of your carnal desires, “I want you… Both… to… massage me… everywhere.”

Halsin cups your face softly, kissing your forehead before getting up. “Let's get you comfortable, shall we?”

You nod hazily, and he helps you remove your camp clothing, before removing the rest of his own, leaving you both naked on the bed. While Halsin was helping you dress down, Astarion allowed himself to remove his own shirt, providing you the skin-on-skin you desired from both of them, all the while respecting his own boundaries. Now comfortably nestled between your lovers, you let your hands explore the man facing you. His warmth is overwhelming and you can't stop touching him, languidly going over his chest and shoulders, your concentration faltering.

“I believe our beloved is rather hungry tonight,” Astarion says, smiling.

The archdruid makes eye contact with you, lovingly holding your cheek, “Is this what you want, my love?”

“Yes, please, I've never wanted anything more,” you plead, now with a breathy voice.

Halsin gives you a soft smile and his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. Your hips buck on their own, brushing over Halsin’s cock already awakening to your touch

Astarion keeps massaging your tits, never letting you go from his embrace and starts kissing your neck.

“Do you like that, my sweet?” He said between two kisses.

“Y- yes… please… more.”

He drags his hand alongside your body, his nails lightly grazing your skin, tracing every curve, every scar and mark on your body, leaving goosebumps in its trail, before landing over your ass.

“Like this?” He asks with a husky voice.

“Yes…” you breathe out.

Halsin follows Astarion's lead, his own hand caressing your side before landing on your thigh, lifting it up to hook your leg around his waist.

“How about this?”

His hand finds its way to your cunt, softly stroking along your entrance.

You sigh content, your hips bucking into him more, trying to make his fingers enter you.

“More…I need more…”

The archdruid slides his finger inside you, giving you exactly what you want and you moan, letting your nails dig in the muscles of his arm. He steadies his rhythm and your hand finds its way in Astarion's hair, pulling him closer to you. His lips reach your ear, guided by your hand.

“By the gods, you're so beautiful,” he says, nibbling on your ear, getting a whimper out of you, as he leaves a trail of kisses down the nape of your neck.

The attention from your lovers makes you squirm under them as every inch of you is yearning for more contact. Halsin rewards your movements by entering you with a second finger and you cry out of pleasure.

“Keep singing for me my love,” Halsin says.

His fingers working your cunt and his thumb rubbing over your clit only awaken something stronger in you.

“Please Halsin, I need you.”

“You will have me, my heart.”

Your other hand reaches for his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes, “All of you.”

He reads the urgency in your gaze and he removes his finger from you, giving them a taste and humming at your essence.

“By the Oak Father, you taste like the sweetest of honeys, my love.” His voice is deep, but soft; you can hear the admiration he holds for you, your body, your soul, and it only makes you want him even more.

He places his cock at your entrance before slowly pushing in fully, and you hold onto his face, taking in deep breaths as he gives you time to adjust to his size. 

“Look at you…” Astarion whispers close to your ear. “You're taking him so well, my love,” he rewards you by groping your nipples, lightly pinching them in the process.

You arch your back at the sensation, giving him easier access to not only your breast, but your neck as well, and his mouth instinctively finds its way to the familiar spot of his feeding. His cold tongue traces over your pulsating vein, seemingly asking for permission, and yet, you were the one reduced to a pleading mess.

“Please...”

He hums in the crook of your neck and you feel his smile against your skin, “Please what?”

Your chest rises higher with each breath you take “Bite me.”

He holds your head back by lightly pulling your hair and sinks his teeth into your neck. You cry out at the initial sting and quickly get lost in the feeling. The flow of your blood leaving your body is even more ecstatic than usual; as if you could feel the blood in every vein in your body being pulled away as Astarion drank from you ravishingly. Knowing your limits and accounting for the condition you're in, he pulls back earlier than usual, and you whine at the loss of his mouth only to moan more as Halsin finally starts moving inside you. What the vampire hadn’t thought of was the effect your blood was going to have on him, now that it was mixed with the drugs you took earlier. It wasn't rare for him to get hard drinking from you, but he usually dismissed the feeling since you've discussed taking things slow. This time however, his cock felt rock hard and the drugs now flowing through him made him chase the feeling that the fabric rubbing over him was providing.

He grabs your waist, grinding into your back, while Halsin pumps in and out of you with slow strokes. With any restraint gone, Astarion pushes his hips into you, rubbing himself down through his trousers. By now, his need is clearly showcased by the pre-come stain on his pants, and the head of his cock poking out of his waistband, flushed pink by your blood running through it.

Halsin notices Astarion's mood change and he reaches out to hold his face, bringing him back to him, before he can act on impulse.

“Do you want this?”

His eyes are sincere and caring; granted the reasons they're in this situation is for you, but that doesn't undermine their own needs as well. Astarion nods, affirming his consent, before freeing his erection to show his intentions. Now certain that his lover wanted this as much as himself, Halsin made sure you were ready for them.

He cups your face and gently strokes your cheek. As if he had read your mind earlier, he asks, “Do you think you can take us both, my heart?” 

“Yes,” your voice is merely a whisper, but the lust you express is clear nonetheless. 

He removes himself from inside of you to wet his fingers with your juices, only to take them back out to move them down to your tight hole. His finger coated by your slick gently enters your ass and you gasp at the sensation, surprised at first, but welcoming it as you push down against him. He slides a second finger and you moan in pleasure.

“That's my good girl.”

He prepares your hole, making sure you're accustomed to the feeling, then removes his fingers to spit in his hand, now to prepare Astarion for you. He grasps the vampire's length and slowly strokes him. Astarion hisses at the initial contact, but quickly melts into his touch, bucking his hips into Halsin's wet hand. The archdruid aligns his partner's cock at your tight entrance while he positions himself back against your pussy, ready to enter you again. He asks for one final permission.

“Are you ready, my love?” 

With partly lidded eyes, you nod and whisper a faint yes, and he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, while his hips and Astarion's thrust into you at once. 

You cry into his mouth, both overwhelmed by their sizes and the friction having both of them at the same time provided, and behind you, the vampire growls, steadying himself inside your ass. Having both him and Halsin inside you like this was a sensation you couldn’t begin to describe. It’s everything you ever wanted, you feel whole, but also vulnerable; you were entirely at their mercy, and you wouldn’t be able to get out from their strong hold on you, especially not in the state you’re in. You're completely helpless, caged between their imposing arms and legs, and yet, you’ve never felt more safe than you do right at this moment. For once, you could let go, let yourself be guided, your life between their hands.

You’re brought back to the moment when they start moving, picking up a slow and steady pace, and you let yourself be used by them; while one pulls out, the other enters you fully. You’re rendered speechless, reduced to moans and soft cries, but your lovers make sure to fill in for your silence.

“You feel so good.” The voice behind you groans close to your ear. His grip on your hips tightens, with his sharp nails lightly digging into your soft skin.

“So deliciously wet, just for us.” A honeyed voice praises you more and you start to lose your hold.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight.”

“You're doing so well.”

Their words of praise worked like a charm on you, and they knew the effect it had on you. They noticed how you reacted to encouragement on the battlefield, and it applied just as much in bed. 

“My love.”

“My good girl.”

The shock to your mind hits you like lightning. You convulse between them, crying out as electricity runs through you, your walls tightening against their cocks, milking them dry. 

“Ugnnh I'm– ah fuck- I'm close.” 

“Mnh- my heart, I’m gonna come–.”

You're still going through your first orgasm when you feel a second one hitting you brutally as they shoot ropes of come inside both of your holes, leaving you overflowing from them.

The sensation numbs you out entirely, still spasming around their members, but completely spent and breathless. Your mind is blank, with nothing but pure bliss swirling around. As if you were between two worlds, switching from dream to reality, you barely feel your lovers pull out of you and move around, cleaning themselves and you. You think you hear a distant voice saying “let’s get you cleaned up” as you’re lifted up from the bed. You don’t notice Astarion removing the ruined sheet, but too tired of his own to care about replacing it with another, and snuggling back in bed. You’re laid down next to him and you instinctively reach out for him; your hand reaching out for his, laying close to his undead heart, and your forehead leaning over his shoulder. Finally, the archdruid slides behind you, covering you three with a warm blanket, his arm circling over your waist. At long last, you let yourself drift to sleep in his loving embrace.

For the first time in weeks, you get a real, good night of sleep.

~

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat

[takes1]

i would literally sell my soul for more asahi smut(or literally anything tbh)

- (your stuff is actually so good bro. keep it up💯💯)

p.1 asahi getting rough with petite!reader

thank you!!! 😭❤️man, asahi is the most perfect character for some of my fav tropes ughh he's such a sweetie

warnings. nsfw themes. recreational use of alcohol. minors DNI

details. nsfw / fem!reader / manager!reader / short!reader / rough play! fetish / mutual size kink / mutual crushing / playfighting / version of spin the bottle / suggestive wrestling / asahi is a gentleman / inappropriate hard-ons / sitting on asahi's shoulders / houseparty / tipsy!asahi / lightweight!suga / 2.4k words / two-parter, reply to be tagged for next nsfw part

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part two here.

"Aawww-!" Was a chorus of giggly groans throughout the little circle of Karasuno players. Your bottle landed on what was undeniably Asahi.

It filled Daichi's living room, which had been completely rearranged to make room for a friendly fight circle. As their more reserved manager, you decided that you shouldn't partake in a bottle-spinning, play-fighting, testosterone-pumping, sweaty activity at the start of the night.

"That's not a fair fight!"

After a few drinks and watching multiple rounds, you began to adopt an unfounded confidence that you'd be able to win one of these silly wrestling matches.

The name of the game was to keep a volleyball in your arms at the end of a three-minute timer. The trick, for most, was to take on their opponent, tire them out, and turtle over the ball in the last 10 seconds.

It seemed doable from your comfy spot on the couch, when you watched Tanaka prevail over Ennoshita, or the energetic match between Hinata and Nishinoya. When you volunteered to go, you were sure you could take anyone. But Asahi? He was arguably the most formidable opponent.

"Noo, let her fight Yamaguchi!" Suga was beet-red from his one drink, clinging to Daichi at the reveal that your match was against tonight's three-time Champ.

"Yamaguchiii!" He called, giggling, but you shook your head.

You didn't want to fight somebody that wasn't a challenge. If Asahi was #1, then Yamaguchi was #12. Bottom of the bracket.

Asahi glanced around the circle of guys telling him not to, already unsure if he should accept this turn, and to let you try fighting somebody your size, first.

"Hey, hey, now-!" Daichi tried to quiet the uproar and laughter, grinning, "Let her -hhaha- let her decide!"

Now that everyone had their own opinions, somewhat sharing the sentiment that if you fought, you'd suffer a terrible loss, your delusion grew a bit out of proportion.

You stood and passed your drink to Yachi. She gasped and grabbed your shirt as if you were a sacrifice. The room fell quieter, except for the failed, muffled laughter against elbows and hands.

"I'll take him!" You asserted, "And I'll win."

Cheers, applause, noise of all kinds preceded the start of some bets. Asahi grew warm at all the attention, and the pushing, and the teasing. If he lost, nobody would ever let him hear the end of it.

"You just gonna let her talk to you like that, bro?!" Nishinoya called.

He was snickering at his best friend's face, money already on you winning. All Asahi had to do was stand up for the guys to start 'Ooooh'ing, and for you to feel much, much smaller.

You were safe and across the circle, the game hadn't started yet, but as he pulled his hair up into a bun, you started sweating. He won his match with Kageyama by real wrestling, the one with Suga was more of just tiring his opponent out, and the one with Narita was won by brute-forcing the ball out of his grip.

Those weighty arms naturally flexed, moving to grab the elastic from between his teeth to tie it up. After enough jabs from Suga and Daichi, he realized he needed to verbally respond to your challenge.

Lightly buzzed, and not as shy about the reality of the fight, "I'm not goin' easy on you just 'cause you're tiny."

Now you had to beat him. You felt the fury of generations, notably Nishinoya, who was clambering over other guys to join your corner at the clear rage-bait.

"You better beat his ass for that!" He screamed over the delighted whoops and cheers.

Daichi resumed his ref-spot, ball in hand, as you both made it to the center of the circle.

You came up to his chest. He cocked his head down at you, a subtle endearment to his eyes, like he was admiring a small animal-- it was underestimation, an intimidation tactic for sure.

"Good," You muttered, a narrowed gaze at your opponent.

Daichi placed the ball on the floor between you and backed up before starting your time.

Asahi kicked it to the edge of the circle, disinterested in a game of keep-away. It wasn't advantageous to grab now, so you engaged him.

After watching enough of his matches, you knew he went low, first, so you stayed much, much lower.

It hardly served you. Any offensive move to take him just wasn't forceful enough, and you found yourself soon trapped once he got a hold of you.

And once he did, it felt like you would never be able to escape. The way he knew how to move you around was incredible- forget about his power, you couldn't even defend against his technique.

It also didn't take a lot of guessing to know what was compromising, and what wasn't- the team was vocal about what you needed to do, which prevailed mostly as different versions of 'Run away.'

40 seconds in, he readjusted his grip to something twisted, unnatural, and you were about three steps behind when he completed the move and pulled you up.

His arms were around your waist, your legs in the air, as he came up to a kneel.

"Ah!" You squealed, world turned upside-down.

You locked your legs around his shoulders, squeezing hard, but it didn't help you as he stood up onto his feet.

"Oh- shit-!!"

"Yoooo!"

"Asahi, take it easy!!"

Your fingertips couldn't make it to the floor- you weren't sure that you wouldn't hit your head, even if they did. His body was so hot against your back, his sheer strength such a shock, it stole your senses for a moment.

"Uh! Ref! Ref! That can't be legal!" Yachi pointed.

"Technically," Daichi took a moment to puff his collar with air, scanning the 'legality' of it, "Uh- it's... allowed."

You had never been so grateful to be wearing a bra. Your shirt didn't come all the way up, but you still took a second to tuck it before gripping your way to a curl-up.

At the top, you grabbed the back of his neck. It earned a strong grimace.

It served him right, since he was making a mockery out of you.

"Mmmh- sorry," Asahi spared you an apologetic look, even letting you finish tucking in your shirt before moving to a different position.

It was all in all, a lot of time, sitting up on his shoulders. It earned many, many whistles and half-vulgar expressions that Daichi had to quiet down.

"You good?" He cracked himself up a little with the question, unable to look anywhere but between your legs. You could feel his warm panting against you and tried not to think about it.

"Mhm."

It was curt, beyond embarrassment at this point. You wanted a fighting chance to touch the ball. If he kept you up here, you wouldn't be able to try.

If you had been one of the guys, he might've been a little less gentle letting you onto the floor. Still, he kept you down and wasted no time to pull himself free from your thighs, then pin you on your back.

He sat on your hips. It seemed so lame, and simple, but you couldn't lift yourself out from under him. You were getting weaker just by trying.

It was worse when he looked you in the eye, a little too sweet, as if he wasn't even thinking about the match.

The only thing that saved you was the time running out. You had just one minute left and still hadn't touched the ball.

"Asahi, get the damn ball!" Suga hollered, now on his second drink.

He sat back a little, glancing around for it- it was enough weight displacement to yank a leg out. He was still deciding between keeping you down and grabbing the ball. You were able to take advantage of the indecision and fly towards it, just before him.

And you were exhausted, hugging it close to your chest, huffing with a kind of tired you hadn't quite known before.

Spite was the only thing you ran on, at this point. Your muscles were screaming with fatigue, your breath shallow and rapid, making your forearms a little slick from condensation.

Eyes screwed shut, you couldn't help but squeak at the sound of him upon you- he was so scary, you finally understood how other teams could get intimidated by the way he played in matches.

"30 seconds!! (Y/n)!" Nishinoya bellowed, "Just 30 seconds!! Hold it!!"

His big fingers were digging, slowly but surely prying like steel under your arms. Every time he spared a moment to readjust, you squeezed harder and impeded his progress, so it forced a different approach.

A forearm barred against the front of your hips, stalling your breath for a moment- once he had a grip around you, he completed the hold and dropped his shoulder to the floor.

And in one, big groan against your ear, he curled, flipping you on top of him.

"Noooo-!!" Nishinoya and Yachi watched along in horror.

You braced, a simple cry all you could make, knowing that you were done for. You lay face up- your back against his chest, the only thing keeping the ball in your possession was a weak arm hold.

Asahi didn't instantly go for it, though.

He crunched his legs up in lock, prying yours down with shameful ease. It must've been some form of showmanship, to truly have you trapped.

The labored rise and fall of his chest moved your whole upper body, yet another enticing reminder that he eclipsed you in size. You could've sworn he was laughing.

Before he could take the thing out of your hands, you chucked it all the way across the circle.

"Oooooh!!"

"Ten seconds! Ten seconds!"

You both scrambled away from each other to grab the ball. For once, you had a head start and started pulling yourself towards it.

A grip on your ankle, just before you could close the distance, dragged you backwards in a comical slide.

"Aah-h-!!" You yelped again, all your progress lost, all your hope fading as he climbed over you.

But he couldn't quite reach the ball. He was weighing you down to keep you from moving.

Now faced with the reality you wouldn't win, you refocused all your effort on keeping him away. You quickly got into more of a sprawl to keep his hips further back while he was distracted, nails digging into his big, outstretched forearm with a strangled, but determined groan.

He quickly silenced you by bringing that arm back, crushing it underneath your combined bodies in an unintentional choke.

The fingers on his other hand were dancing against the ball. You were able to twist, just barely, to snake your hand to his bicep and force a subtle bend at the elbow.

"Time!"

It was such a cathartic experience. For about 3 seconds. As long as it took for you to both stop bracing.

After that, your heart was pounding for a very different purpose. Though you had been able to shove your dirty thoughts to the side in the name of sportsmanship, the position you finished in was pornographic and you quickly felt a throbbing between your thighs.

"Ahhh-- fuck-!" He groaned, heavy and burning hot against your neck, "You're- Mm, you were good."

You winced at the sensation and the tired, grumbly bass in his voice.

Your legs had the outside disadvantage, knees spread wide in another dismal effort to remain low. His hips were crammed against the back of yours, allowing you to feel the indisputable bulge pressed tight against your cunt.

What made it worse was that you couldn't move until he took his weight off, and he was so tired that it took him longer than you to catch his breath.

His forearm slid off of your neck and he finally muscled himself up. It left you a bit weak, wobbly, sort of needy for that weight on top of you again.

What may have felt like a few million years was, in reality, only a few more seconds. Nobody noticed, or they at least weren't pointing it out, in favor of teasing him for not finishing the match.

"A tie, dude?!"

"Rematch! Rematch!"

"I know you're not tired!"

Since you were the underdog, you were spared of such disparaging comments. You had, after all, gotten the closest to winning against him. A tie was satisfying in its own right.

"--if he wasn't so damn distracted-,"

Suga's disappointed mutter to Daichi caught your attention as you took your place back on the couch next to them. You leaned forward and stole his attention right away.

"Not that I wasn't rooting for you!" He clarified. "It's just that--,"

Daichi cleared his throat, very loudly, twice, with a wide stare towards his friend. That was not his secret to tell.

"Right... right."

There was no time, no room to ask another question, because Asahi carefully walked the perimeter of the circle to get to Daichi. He squatted in front of him. They began talking in covered whispers. They exchanged a few back-and-forth's.

It ended in Daichi dapping him up, a big grin on his face. He patted his back, hard but friendly, and made some room so he could exit the makeshift perimeter.

You figured that was the end of it, and started to collect yourself as he hopped over the back of the couch. Kageyama was taking on Tsukishima in a heated, technically complicated match. Now, you had some sympathy because you were still unable to shake the indescribable shock of getting pinned.

It felt eerily similar to the jolt you got from his big, warm hand back on your shoulder.

When you turned to look at him, he was a bit flushed. So modest, considering how rough he had just been with you.

"You wanna come help me with somethin'?"

"Sure!" You glanced around his kind, but gruff features and couldn't figure him out.

He let you use his shoulders to steady yourself as you also climbed over the back of the couch. It was sweet, and it would've been scarier without his help.

"What's up?" You spared a look back to Daichi and Suga, who were grabbing and shoving each other in excitement, and tried to lighten him up a little with a playful shove on the stairs, "You want a rematch?"

It didn't move him at all. Sharing a laugh, he joked, "Uhh, well- kind of."

☆VIP☆

@integers @yuchacco

taglist:

none! reply to be tagged for part two!

my masterlist. more asahi

[creamecafe]

Heyyy there I saw your post about allowing a request for various squid game characters. Can I request Hwang In-ho/front man?

Partner! Reader x Hwang In-ho/Front man

Like s/o doesn't know anything about the games and In-ho just have a whole nother identity just for her. She knows that In-ho goes on a business trip for 7 days and then comes back like nothing happens. And just before In-ho leaves for the "business trip" they have fluff moments and In-ho tries his best to keep her out of his other life

🫶🫶🫶

Secrets I have held in my heart

Summary: What the requests says

Pairing: Hwang In-Ho x GN!Reader

Warnings: none just fluff and maybe feelings of guilt, bathing together but it's NOT smut

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting this! I hope you enjoy it! I also tried making my own dividers. It's not the best, but if I make one that's decent I'll post them for people to use

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Hwang In-Ho was an interesting man. But he was yours. Your friends and family say they find him to be scary or something off about him. But you can't see him anything else than what he is, a caring husband who makes sure to provide well for you.

He tells you that his job is working at a sales company of always testing new products for people and surveying so you really thought nothing of it. Majority of the time he would go on business trips for at least a week. He never told you where he was going but you never wanted to bother him so much.

It was three days before he left and he always made sure to spend all his time with you. Taking you out to eat at your favorite place, watching your favorite movies, cooking and taking naps together.

Doing these things with you made him happy, but he also felt bad about lying about his work to you. He knew that your perspective and love would change because of that.

He didn't want to lose you because of that. But he also couldn't lose his job.

Today was the last day he would be spending time with you and he wants to make the most of it. You woke up with breakfast in bed. Your favorite.

"Don't worry about work sweetheart, I called in sick for you."

You smiled knowing you were really going to spend the day with him together

After you finish your breakfast, you two would take a warm bath together. Nothing sexual, just you two holding each other and making small talk.

Then it would be you guys just watching TV and cuddling with each other.

He really loves you so much. It was hard keeping his double life from you. But all that mattered was that you were safe and anything that you knew could put you in danger.

A few hours have passed and he ordered take out on your favorite restaurant. There it was again, just talking and him saying he's going to miss you

Before you knew it, it was time for you both to go to sleep. You were sad knowing that the next morning he would be gone.

Both of you guys were wrapped up in each other, cuddling and innocence of you two sleeping together meant so much to him.

The next morning came and he had to get ready to leave. You helped him prepare the stuff he needed, suits, snacks, and a goodbye kiss.

"Promise you'll text me everyday to at least make sure you're alight?"

"I promise my darling."

Both of you smiled at this and kissed each other as he was heading to his taxi. He looked back at you and waved to you.

You waved back and soon the car drove off.

When he was in the car, he pulled out his phone with a text message asking if he was on his way. He responded and then took something out of the pocket from his jacket. It was a picture of you. It would at least be a reminder of everything he's doing for you to have the best life possible even if you didn't know.

It would be a few hours before he had to put his love aside for you and keep focus on the bigger picture.

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Squid Game Masterlist | Hwang In-Ho Masterlist | Request Guidelines | Who I Write For | Join my taglist!

[thatlittlered]

would've, could've, should've | aaron hotchner

warning(s): one whole curse word, smoking, stunning amount of fluff and a little bit of action

GIF by @littlecarmine

part one

part two

author's note: Sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it! I also want to thank the sweet anon for the ask with the Robert Siken poem, which I included here. Next part will be straight-up filthy smut, so stay tuned, fellow sluts.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

You don’t see much of each other for the next couple of days. Aaron is on autopilot, avoiding any chance to be alone with you. The rest of the team unknowingly act as a buffer and all he has to do is not look at you during work hours, keep the door to his office shut to not hear your laughter.

It’s a relief when you and Morgan are called to testify in court for a case. You’re somewhere far away for the day, where he knows you’re safe and he can go back to pretending nothing has changed.

The problems start when he’s not being kept busy.

 How much paperwork can one person do?

The stars align oddly in his favor and he’s into calls or meetings until long after everyone else has gone home. When ten pm rolls around, he finally calls it quits but sees no point in leaving in a hurry. It’s past Jack’s bed time, it’d be cruel to wake him up now and carry him back home when tomorrow’s Sunday. If all goes well, he can pick him in the morning and they’ll get to spend the day together.

His finger is hovering over Jessica’s number when he spots your name in his call logs. It’s silly and childish, but he hasn’t thought of you in a couple of hours and God.

Deep down, he knows he’s been incredibly unfair to you. He had to. Had to tell himself it was something outside of him causing him torment. An obstacle to overcome, a distraction to ignore. He had to act as if you were forcing your way into his life in order to be able to put up walls, but what have you really done except exist near him? He is the one to blame for allowing it to grow beneath his skin; succumbing to his need for some sort of intimacy when he could have -should have- nipped this at the bud a very long time ago. He recognized it within himself the other day, when he realized he could have -should have- kissed you.

But nothing is healed with a kiss. Only new grievances arise.

It’s where you go from there that matters and he finds himself unable to guide or be guided.

Where do you go from here?

When he decides to feed his insomnia with a cup of late-night coffee, he is yet again reminded of you. So, he calls, but you don’t answer and he pours another, completely indifferent to the idea of sleep.

It’s getting too late to be here, even by his standards. He tries calling again, but, no answer. He gathers his stuff to leave and there is a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach when he settles inside the car. It’s only eleven and you always say you never sleep this early.

Another call, this time to Emily, who miraculously, picks up.

“Hello? Hotch?”

There is a deafening buzz in the background; loud voices and music blasting.

Aaron apologizes for the late hour and tries to be discreet when he asks about you. Says he needs to go over something about a case file but you won’t answer his calls and he got worried.

“Yeah, she’s fine, she’s right here with me, but it’s a little hard to get her right now. Is it urgent?”

“Uh, no, don’t bother her. Is everyone else there too?”

“Not everyone, just the two of us, Garcia and Morgan. Do you need them as well?”

You didn’t invite him, why would you? He would have never said yes.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sir, I can’t make out much with all this noise. We’re at the ‘Matter’ if you need us. I’ll tell the guys to call you as soon as they can, okay? Have a good night.”

So, he drives two miles a little before midnight to come sit outside ‘Matter’, which is apparently a very busy nightclub downtown, half a mile away from the nearest parking spot he could find.

He doesn’t really know why he came.

He can’t come in and join you. Can’t ask for you.

They probably wouldn’t even let him in while dressed like this.

It’s very unclear what the next step is.

He knows it’s pointless to call you again when you’re probably too busy dancing and drinking with a great many people who are not him. Morgan has some trouble keeping his hands to himself when he drinks.

He sits on the curb of the street, cracks open the pack of cigarettes he snack out of the car’s glove compartment, always hidden below the insurance papers. Astoundingly loud music plays every time the doors to the club open and people come out stumbling, kissing sloppily and dragging each other away.

He just wants to see you and put this horrible feeling inside him to rest.

“No fucking way.”

He jolts at the sound of your voice and throws away the cigarette, putting it out with his shoe before he turns to see you standing outside the club. You approach timidly until you can be sure it’s him and when you step closer to the streetlight, he can really see you. The clothes you could never wear to work, the shoes you apparently spend all your money on. You’re beautiful.

He can’t possibly move until you’re sat beside him. For the first time in what seems like forever, now that he’s grown so used to it, you keep a very respectable distance between your bodies.

“You didn’t have to throw it away; I already saw you and,” you pick up the abandoned carton from the sidewalk and almost laugh at how immaculate it looks just having been opened, “I have so many questions. Since when do you smoke?”

His voice is quiet, unamused.

“Almost never.”

You look at him curiously and he thinks you would make a great interrogator simply by the way you make everyone around you spill their souls out if it will satisfy you.

“Sometimes when I’m very stressed.”

You hum, “I never would have guessed that.”

He laughs to himself and looks at his hands.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of things that are not typical of me lately.”

You help yourself to a cigarette and he cups his hand over yours when the breeze makes it too hard to light up.

“Is that because of me? Am I a bad influence?”

“No. It’s me, I’m the common denominator.”

You hum again and smile at him teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Breakthrough.”

“So, this is what therapy is like?”

He wants to thank you, for always trying to make things as easy as possible for him. You open the door and difficult as it may seem, all he really has to do is walk through it.

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t smoke in session.”

“Oh good.”

You’re sitting closer again and Aaron doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think either of you moved. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, glances at you only from the corner of his eye. Your perfume mingles with the smoke of the cigarette and it’s all a haze to him.

“Why are you not inside?”

“I needed a breath; it was very loud and packed in there… and I finally saw your calls.”

He hums, unable to find anything else to say.

“Why are you here?

“I don’t know.”

He knows that is not a good enough of an answer.

“I always have this terrible feeling that something is going to happen to you.”

Your shoulder touches his and he can admire the smoothness of it, focus on each mark there to avoid the dreaded eye contact.

“Do you think that fear is reasonable, or is it rooted in something else?’

His eyes shut tightly, “Don’t do that, please. Don’t talk to me like I’m a subject.”

“You use your ‘agent tone’ all the time outside of work.”

His voice deepens, “I am aware.”

Heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry I did all that and then backed out at the last minute.”

“It’s alright. I think I knew you would.”

“See, that’s even worse.”

You look at his suit, the wrinkles that have formed in the shirt underneath from the hours of wear.

“Did you come here straight from the office?”

A sigh, “Yeah.”

You nod your head in understanding and move to put out what’s left of the cigarette.

“I’m alright. I’ve got the others too; they’ll take me home. You can relax now.”

“I don’t think I ever can.”

You don’t know what to say really. If what he needs is time, you can give it, but he seems undecided as well when he picks up your hand.

“I think I’m scared of what will happen once the line is crossed.”

A confession.

That, you did not expect.

“Aside from the complications at work, I just,” his hand rubs gently on the spot your watch has left its mark, “I have proved time and time again that I can’t handle any relationship beyond professionalism and once we stop being just colleagues, I will lose you completely from my life.”

“Do you think that line has not been crossed already?”

He laughs quietly.

You can both feel the bouncer looking at you and Aaron is suddenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now.

“I guess it has.”

You’re both quiet for a little while.

“I have to go back inside now, or they’ll start getting worried.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but no words leave his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them you were here.”

That hurt. You know it, but what else was there to say?

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll know.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before you leave and he’s left staring while you go back inside.

-.-.-

A little past two, the girls drop you off in a shared cub before going their separate ways and you rush to your apartment building, only to find Aaron waiting there.

“Well, you certainly have a thing for sitting on curbs.”

He looks tired, so tired, and alone in the empty street. It’s very hard to maintain your position when he always looks this beaten down in his most tender moments. You wish to care for him, love him back into happiness but that wouldn’t be fair.

Still, you can’t help but go to him and he is relieved that you sit closer this time.

“Have you been waiting here this whole time?”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

You softly take his right hand to look at his watch. His body relaxes at the touch.

“Huh.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, but I’m a little more drunk than the last time you saw me.”

Your skin glows under the soft moonlight and he notices.

It is technically tomorrow now.

“How drunk?”

His face moves closer and you can’t help but shiver at the sudden change. His breath is warm on your face. The words come out in a whisper.

“Not that much.”

That’s all it takes.

His lips press against yours once… then twice and then… he doesn’t stop.

You always thought he’d be one to kiss carefully and with absolute purpose, just like he does everything else, but he kisses like a man on fire. He seeks to quench something deep inside of him and you provide happily. The remnants of your lip gloss tingle on his mouth, as if kissing you alone is not enough of an awakening.

It’s becoming increasingly hard to keep up with breathing when he envelops you so, and cages you in the pleasant whirl of his scent. When you break away for breath, he’s quick to capture you once more. His hands come to your face to keep you there until he’s had enough, but how he can he ever have enough of you?

He only lets you go because he has to. You’re both practically panting and he can’t decide what to do. He wants to kiss you, look at you, touch you, but it cannot all be done at once. When your own hand comes to his face just below his jawline, he melts under the touch. His eyes are sunken, his body is begging for rest, but it would not come without you.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

His voice is low and breathy when he nods.

“Yeah…”

-.-.-

You walk upstairs, hand in hand, and Aaron can see your own exhaustion is taking over. Something started with that first touch. Your bodies wish only to find comfort near each other.

His breath is warm on your neck while you open the door, his hands softly placed on your waist with the excuse of keeping you steady. When you move to take off your shoes, he is behind you again, as if tied to you with invisible thread, and holds you gently by the elbow when he sees you struggling.

You’re suddenly very aware he is in your house again. Touching you.

“Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head no, but you’re too focused on the way his hand moves languidly up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

He is so caring. So soft below the austere guise.

“I just need to take a shower,” you almost stumble backward and he thinks it’s the alcohol, but it might just be the feeling of his hands on your face, “I must have fifty different people’s sweat on me right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

His voice is soft – tired.

You turn on the lights for him in the living room and he gives a half-smile when you check on him again.

“I won’t be long.”

Once left alone, he gets to look around your house. He sees your carefully assorted nick-knacks and smiles at the framed pictures all over your bookshelves. He can’t help but notice you’ve chosen one, if not the only, photo of the team that he’s also part of.

He is important to you too.

He can see you in every corner of the room, in the books you buy and the realistic-looking-but-admittedly-fake plants sprinkled here and there for a lack of time to take care of any real ones. He can even see you in the soft material of the couch when he sits and lets his cheek touch the fabric. He has been here before in a dream, with your head in his lap.

The room is awfully quiet save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of running water in the background. For a man that’s usually so good at sitting alone with his thoughts, he suddenly can’t stand it.

He knocks gently on the bathroom door and opens it slowly, only to be hit with the dizzying cloud of warm steam. Your head peeks behind the shower curtain and he can tell you got tired of standing and sat in the tub instead.

“Is it okay if I sit in here with you?”

You thought he’d sit on the toilet seat, but he crawls to the edge of the tub and sits on the bathmat with his back to you.

How close is close enough?

Now that he’s ventured, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied.

So, he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the, now warm, porcelain.

“Aaron.”

He doesn’t know if he actually fell asleep, but the water is now turned off and you’re looking at him. He realizes now, for the first time, that you’re naked behind him. Your hair and eyelashes are angelically wet, the sheen of water on your flushed skin is divine. He knows that you’d be warm if he touched you now.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

You smile at him -siren- and your hand grabs a handful of his shirt, staining it with water that reaches his body underneath and makes him shiver. You kiss him with plump wet lips and he reaches for you. His hand entangles in your hair until you’re both practically pulling at each other.

A less enamored man would have broken away just to sneak a peek at your bare skin, but he won’t. He is respectful even now, even like this.

“I should have kissed you the other day. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

It’s a whisper when his mouth leaves yours, but you catch it.

You hum, eyes glossy, “Would've, could've, should’ve.”

What matters is now.

He kisses you again – just one more time. You both feel like giddy, lovesick children.

“Can you hand me my bathrobe?”

The bathrobe is also impossibly soft to the touch and when you emerge clad in it, he thinks he’d like to hold you. The spell of the warm steam is broken outside, however, and being so close to your naked body suddenly becomes very serious.

You let him sit in your bed, still fully clothed, save for his suit jacket, and he closes his eyes again. The comforter underneath is lovely.

Is everything in this house soft?

Is this what it feels like to be loved by you?

You disappear inside the walk-in closet and reappear, now properly dressed in your pajamas. The bed dips when you sit next to him and he turns to you completely.

“I have a T-shirt you can sleep in, don’t know about pants though.”

Please. Just be here, with him.

He watches you leave, but it’s not long before you return with the aforementioned shirt. You laugh when he finally realizes he’ll have to sleep in his boxers.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you.”

He throws a teasing look, but can’t possibly come up with a clever answer right now.

“I’ll go dry my hair and you can get dressed, alright?”

You are so gentle with your guidance that it makes him feel like a helpless child, but there’s a hidden relief at that. It’s nice; being cared for like this and there is something to be said about parallels, with you going now to do as you had done a week and a half ago in a Florida hotel and him waiting for you – on your bed.

It’s the same, but it’s different.

He hangs his work clothes carefully on the chair in the corner of your room and goes to sit on the bed, but feels too uncomfortable to climb under the covers. He knows you’d find his duality funny; how he goes from hungrily kissing you to being too embarrassed to join you in bed, even if it’s only for sleep.

You notice his stiffness when you come back in the room, but don’t say anything. It’s not exactly easy for you either, you’re just better at hiding it than he is. You choose to lead by example instead and turn off the lights before reaching for the one on your nightstand and climbing inside your bedding.

He only speaks to deflect attention from him again, “You have a TV in your room.”

“Jealous?”

He turns to look at you and you’re perched up on the plump pillows, smiling at him. Your hand reaches for his own over the comforter and you gently pull him to you.

He comes, of course.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He joins you with his back on the pillows and his shoulder touching yours, but he’s still too stiff.

“What do you watch?”

“Mostly reruns of sitcoms-,” he laughs at that, “-Seinfeld.”

“Isn’t that show a thousand years old?

“You would know.”

He laughs again and you can almost make out a wounded pout on his face, but a kiss is enough of a cure. His shoulders relax and he gives in to the warmth and softness; be it the bed or you next to him. You can tell he’s barely managing to stay awake, but he still can’t let go completely. His head slumps backward again.

“Can we turn it on?”

You find the courage to caress his hair, admiring the softness of it and the discreet sprinkle of grey that you can only see up close.

“If you want.”

The quiet humming of the television and your breath in his ear, putting his mind to ease, are enough for him to finally sleep and you’re not long behind. His head is turned to the side where you are, hand tightly holding yours.

Later in the night, when you stir in your sleep, he pulls you further into him – wraps his arm around you completely and doesn’t let go.

next part

[cjlouwho]

I made a little bucktommy fic based off of this post from yesterday (read here or on ao3)

Husbands

There had been a big fire, taking out the top eight floors of a high rise. There were multiple stations involved, including the 118 and Harbor, ground and air support, to get the fire under control and everyone out safely.

It took more than a few hours, but eventually the fire was out and everyone was getting their gear in order to head back to their respective stations.

As Buck organized the tools in the truck, a small group of friends, two guys and two girls, in their mid-twenties Buck assumed, gathered around him.

It had started with little comments; a guy asked what the axe was used for, a girl batted her eyelashes as she touched his turnouts because she “always wondered what the material felt like”, another girl asked how much water could be stored in the truck.

Buck liked talking. He liked answering questions and telling people what he did. He leaned against the firetruck as they chatted, until about five minutes in one of the guys sighed and got to the point. “We're honestly just wondering if one of us could get your number? Or all of us. Doesn't really matter.”

Buck paused. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy getting hit on. He enjoyed it quite a bit, actually. It was always nice to know when someone found you attractive.

Getting hit on was fun. Getting people's numbers was fun. But, there was something else that was even funner now. He'd been able to do it for exactly three months, to the day. Not that he wasn't flashing his ring beforehand, but something about being married sounded even better than being engaged.

“Sorry, guys,” Buck said, smiling as he lifted his left hand into view, “Im flattered, but I'm married.”

As some disappointed, and some still interested, looks broke out over the group, a familiar voice sounded behind Buck. “Damn, I was just about to shoot my shot.”

A blush rose on Buck's face as Tommy passed by. He was working ground ops today, and Buck knew he was around, but this was the first he'd seen of him. “Yeah, you wish, Kinard,” he called back, causing Tommy to turn back around to him.

He shrugged, smirking. “A guy can dream, can't he?” he asked with a wink, continuing backwards toward his truck.

It was only once Tommy was out of view that Buck realized the group was still there, staring between Buck and the direction Tommy went with confusion on their faces.

“Oh, uh, that- that's my husband.”

His smile grew as he watched the realization hit the group. They didn't stand a chance.

“Forget it,” one girl mumbled as they all started to disperse.

“They're both so hot, what the hell?” one guy whispered, albeit loudly, to his friend.

“And unbelievably corny,” the friend said back, not even trying to be quiet. “Makes me wanna gag.”

Buck rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he pushed himself up from where he was leaning on the firetruck. He began walking in the direction Tommy had gone, needing to see him before his station left.

“Get any numbers, hot stuff?” Tommy's voice made Buck jump. He was situated between two trucks and, from the looks of it, had just finished pouring a bottle of water over his head to clean himself off.

Buck's shoulders relaxed as he walked over to Tommy. “No, I did not,” he said cheekily. “You wanna know why?”

“Hmm?”

“Because my husband interrupted. He didn't say it, but I got the feeling he wants to keep me to himself.”

“The nerve of that guy.” Tommy moved closer to Buck, his hands coming up to grip onto the sides of Buck's turnouts. “Can't say I blame him though.” He spoke quietly, staring between Buck's eyes and lips, “He does have a really hot husband.”

Buck put his hand at the nape of Tommy's neck, closing the space between them as he pulled him in for a kiss. He had no concern for the fact he was getting soot right back on Tommy's clean face. Payback.

“Can you bring your turnouts home?” Buck asked, leaning back just enough to speak.

Tommy laughed, his face scrunching up into that deep smile that made Buck melt. “This really does something for you, doesn't it?”

“Every damn time.”

Another kiss, this one slower and softer. A promise of what's to come when they're both off shift in a few hours. “I'll figure out a way.”

[revelboo]

Has anyone told you today you are one of the best blogs to be found this side of the sun? Cause you sure as hell are. Also I cry every time at TFP Starscream being called a "turkey" cause omg he looks like one 😂 (thats also a nickname I got a lot as a kid xD A varient of "goober" lol) Also glad you are starting to upload some of these to Ao3 cause tumblr can be kinda hard to find things on xD especially with longer things. Also as a Optimus lad im falling over myself for you OP stuff, I eat everyting up between Op stuff and eagerly await TFA Op again (whenever you get the vibe to at least)

He’s definitely one of my favorite iterations of Optimus! Still serious, but not as jaded and so burned out, much more willing to smile still

Broken Heart Pt 3

TFA Optimus x Reader

• Always uncomfortable picking up and carrying Sari because of how fragile she is, you're no better. Can feel your heart beating against his servos, but where Sari is bold and fearless, you're less certain and almost timid in his hands. Glancing up at his face again and again as he carries you cradled to his chassis. Do you feel pressured to go with him? Is that it? He hadn't meant to make you feel like you had no choice. "Are you sure you don't need a human medic?" Reaching a servo to touch your forehead and the little cut there, he’s uncomfortably aware of the discolored spots appearing on your skin. Bruises Sari had called them and these are his fault. Unable to protect you from his own hands.

• Shaking your head, you're not sure if it's because he saved you from that other one or if it's his deep, soothing voice, but you feel safe with him. “You saved my life,” tell him, cautiously resting a palm against his chassis when he looks down at you. “I- thank you,” you finish awkwardly, hating how inadequate those words are. He could have saved himself, not risked his own life to try and protect you, a complete stranger not even his own species. He’d been hurt for you. And nothing you do can ever be enough to repay him for that.

• You’re thanking him? Don’t you realize Blitzwing only attacked because of him? If anything, you should hate him. He should be begging you to forgive him for endangering you, but the words fail him when you rest your head against his chassis. And you’re so small in his servos, warm and needing him in a way Sari rarely does with so many other protectors who are better at talking to her. Connecting and understanding her. “You never need to thank me for keeping you safe.” Aware of Bulkhead watching the interaction, he vents softly. Because no matter what he does, there’s always going to be that guilt that you were in danger because of him and he wants so bad to make it right.

• Relaxing into those big hands, exhaustion is all that’s left after the fear and adrenaline slip from you. Just want to curl up and rest. Maybe have a good cry somewhere safe. And even though you have no idea where he’s taking you, you’re strangely sure it is a safe place. That there’s nowhere safer than in his hands. When he approaches the old building, it doesn’t look that impressive as the green one slides open the big hangar style door so they both can duck inside. And then your heart is racing again. There’s more of them, see their optics widen when they spot you before a red and white one hurries over. From somewhere further inside the building, you can smell chili cooking and your stomach growls. “What happened?” The red and white one snarls as the big, green alien heads deeper into the building and you hear him talking to someone, saying, “You came back.”

• “The Decepticons happened,” he says, attention sliding from Ratchet to you as you try to hide your face against him as if uneasy with the other’s curiosity. “It’s alright. They’re friends,” he adds, trying to reassure you as you glance up at him. Looking to him for protection and it spreads warm through his spark. Wants to be worthy of your trust, to be your protector to make up for endangering you to begin with. Shifting you against him, he introduces himself and his fellow Autobots, smiling when you softly offer your own name.

Previous

[hauntedhokage]

A Helping Hand

Caleb/F!Reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k (my bad)

warnings: spoilers for Homecoming Wings story and Caleb’s Painful Signal memory, grief, sexual content

part two to Handsy

ao3 | masterlist | ko-fi

You hadn’t paid attention to any of the specifics that were provided to you, you simply didn’t care about any of the details besides the fact that your friend was dead. He was supposed to show up on his first day back at Skyhaven from his trip to Linkon for a follow up appointment, you needed to make sure his concussion had actually healed so he could be cleared to fly, only to be told by one of the Captains that you weren’t going to see him again. 

You’d wanted it to be a joke, his horrible attempt at gauging how much you missed him while he was gone, but you know better than to challenge a superior over it.

That explained why he hadn’t texted back, aside from your other explanation being that he was spending time with his family and not checking his phone. But for him to be dead? It didn’t feel real. 

Not him. Not Caleb. 

He was always confident in his strength and ability to perform (in every scenario), for him to have been killed was just…wrong. 

But a week goes by without someone saying “sike”, nobody jumps out to tease you for being gullible, and you’re dressed for the funeral held in Linkon City for the fallen pilot. You stand in your only appropriate funeral attire - one of hundreds on base who showed up but the only one who received eye contact from two of his close friends. 

After the funeral one of those two friends approaches you, letting you know that there were a couple things with your name on them in Caleb’s room of the apartment they shared, and that you were welcome at any time to come collect them. Stuff he’d want you to have, they’d said, and that wasn’t something that was easy to comprehend. 

The idea of Caleb having things for you in his apartment felt off, given your lack of a real relationship between you. Sure you were friends who had sex and he teased you relentlessly, but there hadn’t been anything more concrete established for him to have things for you in the apartment you’d never seen. There were feelings on your side of the relationship, sexual attraction blooming into so much more with every moment you spent with the pilot fertilizing that seed, but you kept that to yourself out of risk of him laughing you out the door. Without knowing his intentions, you wanted to keep your feelings safe from potential garden shears ready to cut the stem from the root, only now that flower would be left to wilt without his care and attention to keep it alive. 

You leave the gift bag sitting on your coffee table for longer than you’d like to admit. Two weeks of staring at it after long shifts in the med bay, your eyes constantly sore and puffy from how much you rubbed at them to keep the tears from staining your cheeks. It felt wrong to open a gift when the person who gave it to you wasn’t there to see your reaction to it. But you know you need to do it, because he would’ve wanted you to be strong for him. 

Inside the bag is a bear, one of the souvenir bears dressed like a pilot that was sold in the gift shop of the aviation museum. You told him once that there wasn’t a replacement for him unless those silly bears were an option, and he’d told you that it could count even if he was cuter. 

The card is opened next, your eyes taking in the only thing of him that you had left in his handwriting. The script was neat compared to other pilots, legible and carefully printed to ensure you could read it instead of the squiggles and shapes others had put in front of you to attempt at reading. 

Happy birthday, doc!

Cheers to another year of keeping each other healthy. Little Caleb is your new friend for when I’m gone - he’ll keep you company until I get back to bug you some more. 

Confession time:

I can say a lot to your face, but not this for some reason. Maybe we can get dinner for real as a date and it’ll be my turn to be flustered as I talk about feelings while you tease me?

Have a wonderful birthday, and let me know if anyone gives you crap so I can straighten them out. 

-your favorite pilot, Caleb 

“Yeah,” you whisper, reading over his handwriting once more in hopes that it relaxes the vice around your heart. “We should’ve talked feelings before you left, idiot.”

But that opportunity had long passed; and now you’re curled up on your couch with the bear in your arms, crying over your deceased lover. 

If he was alive, you’d kill him again for making you so upset - but he’d kick himself for it enough which would unfortunately deter you from wanting to hurt him. He was great at looking like a kicked puppy, you didn’t want to deal with that. 

The next day you resign from your position at the DAA. You felt sick to your stomach every time you saw a pilot walk by after Caleb’s funeral, and after the bear you just couldn’t take it anymore. A month later you’ve moved into a new apartment across Skyhaven in a month after accepting a position at Willow Medical Center. It doesn’t fix everything, but it certainly helped to live somewhere that you didn’t have a memory of Caleb - no meals cooked in that kitchen or singing in the shower to haunt your memory. In the hospital you don’t see him in every patient you come across, you don’t have to do any double takes when you see a uniform pass on a man with dark hair. You don’t sit and wait for him to slide into whatever room you’re in to ask you to hang out or get him out of some cleaning duty he’s been tasked with because he was a smartass. 

It was easier to breathe when you weren’t being suffocated by the memories of him and what could’ve been between you. 

But if you were to say you were handling your grief well, you’d be lying if you said you had it under control. You pay bills for a house you rarely live in, only there to sleep in a bed rather than half awake in your office at the hospital. It was more likely to see you reading a research paper in the hospital cafeteria than out getting lunch with colleagues, and you hadn’t had a home cooked meal since you left the DAA. You’d never bothered with truly going grocery shopping since moving in, so there was nothing to cook and you could keep your body alive by ordering takeout. 

It wasn’t healthy, but it kept you alive - or, at least, whatever this version of “alive” could be called. You weren’t even present in your own life anymore, holding an absence in your own life to keep yourself from truly processing those feelings. 

This was supposed to be any other Tuesday. You’d been in the hospital since Monday morning, moving about with maybe one or two naps in your office to keep you moving between appointments and the random request for a second opinion on a diagnosis. There had been a bustling on the floor when you were leaving your last patient for the day, which had you mentally planning to delay your return home about an hour or so to ensure you could avoid whatever commotion had arisen. 

But then the door to your office opens as you’re packing up your bag, and you bite your lip in irritation when the door is softly shut behind whoever had come to see you. 

“Can I help you?”

“I missed my follow up appointment.”

That voice… it was impossible. Caleb was- he’d been killed by an explosion. This visitor was just a victim of a similar voice, that was all. That, or you’d been at the hospital for far too long. 

“I’m sorry, but I haven't had any follow-ups scheduled that have been missed, so…” You trail off as you turn around, realizing immediately that you were standing face-to-face with the new Colonel of the Farspace Fleet that everyone was talking about. Tall and imposing in the long black coat over the uniform, but he’s not looking at you so you can’t see his face clearly. But why was he here? They had their own doctors in the Fleet. 

“I’m a couple months late, doc.” He states, keeping his service cap tucked in his arm as he turns to face you properly. 

Those eyes, that stupid little smile - there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was the mad you’d been grieving for months. 

The crack! that rings through the room freezes everything that might’ve been happening around you. Caleb holds his jaw with a gloved hand, staring at you open mouthed in shock as you stare back at him. You’d slapped him hard enough that you felt a crack in your own hand in addition to the sting from the impact, and yet you were the one who was now crying over it. 

“Okay, ow!” He finally speaks, and you stand your ground with hands on your hips despite the tears that trail down your cheeks. Any eye makeup you might’ve worn is now ruined if your long hours at the hospital already hadn’t, but you can’t care about that when you’re standing in front of a ghost. “I’m sorry, doc.”

“You’d want to be more than that.”

He doesn’t stop you when you hit him again, your left fist colliding with his chest and followed by your right. It’s like he didn’t feel the blows at all, his hand coming to rest on your hip as you continue to pound on his chest and gradually pulling you in closer until you’re sobbing into his uniform. A gentle hand rubs your back as the other cradles the back of your head, keeping you close as you cry. 

“I’m back, doc, I’m okay.”

“Y-you’re such a dick.” Your voice wobbles more than you’d wanted it to, as if your tears didn’t already alert him to how deeply upset you’d been. “Why’d you come here?”

“You weren’t at home.” It’s like he’d never died, as if never left you, his tone light and easy as he steps back to look at you. He always could find you anywhere, it was an annoying talent of his. “Can I take you home? Your colleagues say you’ve been here for over a day, you need to rest-“

“To be able to take care of others,” you finish for him, stepping away from his gentle hold and turning towards your desk. “Yeah, I know.”

You didn’t have any appointments, the ward and emergency room were staffed, so there was no reason for you to stay. But did you want to go anywhere with a man you believed to be dead? Could you?

You supposed that you didn’t really have a choice; he already knew where you lived and worked, so he could show up whenever he wanted. This was a Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, noncompliance could land you in their military jail for whatever reason he deemed fit. It didn’t feel like something Caleb would do, but you weren’t sure that this was even the man you’d had such strong feelings for - how could this possibly be your friend?

When you wake up the following morning, you believe that you’d dreamt it all. You’d gone home, probably had a drink, then fell into bed to sleep off the long days at the hospital. It was a believable story, considering your history, and you’d almost convinced yourself of that truth - until you looked at your hand. 

Bandaged neatly, the dull throb telling you that you had actually injured yourself slapping Ca-

It couldn’t have been Caleb. Just some Farspace Fleet suit that riled you up, it couldn’t have been him. He was still very much dead in a box in a cemetery in Linkon City. 

Maybe this was the universe telling you that you needed to take some flowers to his grave - telling you to come to terms and get the fuck over it. He wouldn’t have wanted you to be miserable like this - that much you knew. If you didn’t get arrested for assaulting a Farspace official then maybe you’d take some days off to go to Linkon, or maybe go to the DAA and see the little shrine Patrick and Gideon had set up in his old locker.

“Caleb,” you whisper, your head dropping into your hands as the too-familiar burn of tears in your eyes builds up. “You bastard.”

“Rude.”

The new voice in your bedroom has you screaming, throwing the first thing you could get your hands on at the figure in the doorway. He catches the bear easily, looking at it with a smile before looking back to where you sit on the bed. He’d never seen you so upset, and for it to be over him was a twist of the knife that had planted itself in his heart every time he went to check on you. 

“Hey, you’re okay, doc. It’s me.”

“That's the problem.” Your counter makes him scoff, and you scoot away from him as he steps closer to your bed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.” His sigh is heavy, and he sits on the edge of the bed with Little Caleb in his hands. “You’re not hallucinating, and you can hit me some more if you want.”

Fuck, did you want to. But if you hurt him you’d then have to patch him up and that wasn’t something you were particularly interested in. Not when your hands couldn’t stop shaking and your vision was blurred courtesy of the tears you'd been trying to blink away. You didn’t sign off on sloppy work, nor would you perform sloppy work - not even on him. 

You watch as he scoots closer to you, slow and with his hands in your sight as if trying to calm a scared animal. He’d always been so dramatic, and you hate that his antics have your cheek twitching as he dances Little Caleb towards you as he moves. He was now a Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, and he was using a teddy bear to try and calm you down. 

“You shouldn’t cry over me anymore,” he says when you’re finally within reach, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. It’s warm, skin softer than you remember it being, and you can’t help but put your bandaged hand over his. “I’m back, and I’m okay.”

Was he? The Caleb you knew would rather die than have to wear a suit and tie - uniform or not. He’d shed the tie and coats, sitting beside you in a button down and slacks with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, more like the man you had come to love but still foreign to you

“So you just stalked me for two months?”

“Only two weeks. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Your diagnosis?”

“You’re not okay,” he whispers, his arms hesitant to pull you into him but still succeeding in their task. “I can’t apologize enough for what’s happened, but I can take care of you moving forward. Whatever you want or need, I’ll make sure you have it and that’s a promise.” 

“I don’t want you to leave me again.” Your murmured request has him moving you so you straddle him, forcing the eye contact he needed to try and get through to you.

“I’m not.”

The kiss happens before you’ve registered that he’d moved, but your fingers move to undo more of his buttons so you could get so your hands could feel his skin and trust that he was real. Your bandaged hand rests over his heart, and you’re not sure if it was his heartbeat or the throbbing in your hand that you’re feeling but you were choosing to believe that it was his. 

“No zero gravity acrobatics,” you request when you feel yourself get lighter, earning a laugh from him against your lips as he moves below you. 

“Trying to get these pants off.”

That was a good idea, and you swing your legs back as you’d learned how to do so you can get your own pants off while he did. There were some things you supposed you’d never forget how to do, you just hadn’t expected moving in the evol created gravity fluctuations to be one of those things but it clearly came in handy. 

“So talented,” he praises, bringing your legs back around him as the gravity returns and his hands pull your shirt over your head. “Missed you so much, baby. Your teasin’ and your smile, this pretty body, and the way you tell me ‘m stupid.”

“Caleb.” It’s all you can say, eyes closing when you feel his fingers slide through your folds. You couldn’t help that his gravity manipulation turned you on, or the way your body would always react to his touch. 

“Already so wet, that’s my girl.”

His. You’d been his since the second time you’d slept with him, nobody could ever come close to what Caleb made you feel. Both literally and figuratively weightless, with an infectious warmth that radiated from his heart and easily made your own that much warmer. His hands are still so familiar with your body, touching you with an uncertain gentleness but still knowing exactly how you needed to be touched to pull that first orgasm from you.

“Come home with me, doc.” He whispers into your mouth, hands holding you hips tight as you hover over his length. His tip just barely poking into your prepped hole drives you crazy, but you know he won’t let you move until you answer him. Those dual-toned eyes have that pleading look to them, like a puppy begging for a treat but the looming darkness in them makes you wonder if this puppy would bite. 

“We can talk about it later,” you suggest, your arm moving to wrap around his neck as you get the clearance to lower yourself onto him. 

It’d been too long since you’d had any kind of penetration, the fire of your desire snuffed out by your grief, and Caleb had always been difficult for you to take. It had been long enough that this felt like a new experience again, your eyes staying open as his forehead presses to yours while he talks you through the slow descent with soft praise until you’re fully seated. You missed the feeling of his length, the position that made you feel like he was deepen enough that he was pushed against your cervix - and in this moment you think he actually might be. 

“Always take me so well,” he praises, his hands guiding you to move. “You could have me every day if you wanted. All the time, take you with me on tours just so you can be close.”

The drag of his length against your still adjusting walls prompts an ache that was familiar and comforting despite the pain it brought, and you find yourself clinging to him in hopes that it would keep him there with you forever. You couldn’t bear to let him leave you again, you’d keep him inside you like this if it meant he wouldn’t leave you alone, leave you to feel that emptiness he’d left when he’d “died”. The offer to go with him actually sounded enticing, being taken care of rather than taking care of others - taking care of yourself again. 

“No more crying, baby.” It’s a soft spoken order, but an order nonetheless, his hands coming to cup your cheeks so he could wipe the offending tears away. You still have the assistance of his evol to ride him, the fluctuations in gravity keeping you moving despite both of you being otherwise occupied with each other. 

“I don’t want you to leave again.” If you hadn’t been so close, he likely wouldn’t have heard your whisper. Being exposed like this, even in front of Caleb, wasn’t something you were good at. You were already calm and collected, the black cat to his golden retriever in terms of energy which carried into your work. You couldn’t hold it together after he’d died, but you put up a good front in the hospital for your patients and colleagues. Even the most artisan of masks had their cracks and you were seeing yours crumble to dust in his hands, likely never to be repaired. 

“I’m not leaving you, baby,” he murmurs, placing the gentles of kisses to your lips as he holds your head in place. “Never again. I can’t be without you again. But let me make you feel good, alright? Let me take care of you.”

And he does, pulling multiple orgasms from you before he finally releases into your spent body. You’re held tightly in his arms, chest to heaving chest as you both fight to catch your breath. 

His stamina was insane now, making you wonder just what they’d done to him in his recovery as your brain finally caught up to the activities of the last hour. How had he been alerted, was it the Fleet’s doing or someone else’s? Did it hurt? Was he-

“Thinking way too hard after all of that.”

“Is it okay if I’m thinking about you?”

“Only if it’s about my offer to come home with me. But I’ll also accept compliments about how handsome and good in bed I am.”

In all your grieving you’d forgotten how fucking cocky he was, an annoyed huff leaving you as you try to pull away. The reaction in his right hand is delayed compared to the left, which was odd considering he was right handed. His reaction time should’ve been better, and it was suspicious how perfect his skin was despite him being in an explosion. There were some imperfections created by your grip on him, but nothing related to the explosion. You’d expected maybe some grafts, scarring from burns at the very least - but he was perfect. 

“Let’s go shower, honey. Maybe that’ll help you relax some more.” 

It doesn’t, but you do your best to put up a front as your hands carefully examine his body. He spends the shower reassuring you that he was real and standing in front of you, trying to wash your body down as you used washing his as an excuse to really look at him. Medical at the Fleet must really be something, and you’re tempted to take him up on his offer just so you could investigate closer. Something truly wasn’t right here, and for his sake you needed to know what it was. 

His hands are careful as they dry you off, paying special attention to your hair and leaning in to kiss you as you look up at him. His lips are dry, and you remind him to stay hydrated which earns a nervous laugh at him being caught.

“You really notice everything, doc.” It’s unfortunate that he’s right, because you wanted to just enjoy that he was here but couldn’t. 

You’re barely dressed when he gets a call, and you excuse yourself to get your own glass of water so he could have that privacy. It’s when you start to head back to the bedroom that you frown at seeing him fully dressed and heading your way while draping his tie around his neck. 

“I gotta handle some business. But I’ll be back tonight.” His fingers nimbly tie the black fabric around his neck, and it feels like he’s slipping away from you as he transforms into The Colonel. 

He leans in to kiss you, indulging himself in your taste with a satisfied hum that reverberates through your mouth and causing your heart to flutter.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, doc, I promise.” The promise is sealed with another kiss, only he’s pulling you along with him to the door to maintain that physical contact to anchor him to the moment despite the tides working to pull him away. “I ordered some groceries for you that should be here soon, make sure you eat.”

“Yes, Colonel.” The use of his title pulls a wink from him, a request for you to call him that in bed at least once met with your door closing in his face. You could hear him laugh on the other side, the sound more comforting than you think he’d ever realize. He was back, alive, and with you once again. You couldn’t look past the mystery that was lingering under his surface and return, but you were going to enjoy your time with him nonetheless.

[brabblesblog]

In time.

When you and Astarion finally begin sharing one tent, there is one little problem: you needing some me time. Mostly fluff with like some smut?

Aka Astarion catches you during some fun solo time, and it becomes the start of his and your path to sleeping together again.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

You've started a habit of attempting to sneak away.

The transition from having your own space, to this, was mostly easy. You did have a fair amount of stuff, and so moving in was a whole day of arguing about where to put your books and whether your various items collected from your adventure was worth keeping or not.

Finally fed up, Astarion had rooted through your pack, finding a pot, a cutting board, and a pair of old shoes, which he had attempted to dispose of. That in itself had resulted in a small argument, in which you tried to say you were keeping these items to sell to Blurg. In the end, you had won, and those items remained nice and safe at the bottom of your pack.

As the days passed, however, cohabiting in one tent became mostly bearable. Mostly.

It only really sucked when you got horny. And being this close to him all the time made it inevitable.

Hence your new habit.

Usually, sneaking off to get your own privacy in a little patch of nowhere was relatively easy. You'd wait for him to go into meditation or sleep (depending on whichever he chose that day), his small soft snores to fill the air, and then you'd slip away to rub out your urges. It never took long. Fifteen minutes and you'd be back, snuggling against him for the rest of the night.

From tonight on, however, was going to be a different matter. As the group traveled closer and closer to Moonrise, Halsin had decided to tighten security around camp, and had decided to assign shifts for everyone to keep guard. Your shift, and Astarion's, wouldn't be until dawn.

You lay in your bedroll, frustrated. You can hear Lae'zel outside, pacing as she stood guard. There was no way you were going to be able to sneak off without her asking, and you would rather die than tell her what you were heading out for.

Astarion lay beside you, eyes closed and breathing softly, his arm draped over you. Shooting his sleeping form an exasperated look, you sigh and give up on the attempt to head out.

However, if you just stayed silent... hm.

You slowly slide a hand down your own torso, down past your hips and between your legs, down to your aching cunt.

You close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief. Much better. Your fingers find your clit, already swollen and begging for release. With two fingers you gently touch yourself, biting back any noise you could potentially make.

Being this close to him while doing this made it all the better. Feeling his arm around your waist, his soft breaths against your nape, the weight of him against your back - it was all so amazing.

With your eyes squeezed shut and your entire being focused between your legs, you don't notice his eyes open in the dark.

"Didn't think you'd be so daring as to do it in here, darling."

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and your eyes fly open.

"Shit," you mutter. "Look. I just - I didn't want you to-"

He laughs, and you realize that there isn't anything to worry about. He's just amused, and you realize he's known every single time you've snuck out.

"I know," comes the reply. "Feel free to continue. Far be it from me to come between you and your hunger."

He leans in, and then whispers, "besides. I do like knowing I make you feel like this."

You think about this for a quick moment.

“I don’t want to hurt you, or trigger anything-“

“You won’t,” comes the reply, fast and without hesitation. Instead, the arm on your waist tugs you closer, and he lays his head on your chest.

“Keep going,” he murmurs. “I’ll just be here to keep you company.”

You hesitate for a moment more, and then finally give in and resume touching yourself. As you do, he wraps himself more tightly around you, slowly moving his head upwards to bury his nose against the base of your throat.

He lets out a soft, sleepy sigh, and the sensation of his lips and breath against your skin is a very welcome feeling.

Just his mere presence helps. Your fingers work faster, and you bite back a moan as you feel yourself getting closer. Astarion notices it too; he lifts his head up to watch you, utterly fascinated.

You part your lips, a silent moan on them. You’re right at the edge. Your eyes open, and meet his gaze.

He smiles, a soft, genuine thing, and whispers.

“Come for me, darling.”

And so you do. You whimper involuntarily, and the noise you make is immediately lost as his lips cover yours and he kisses you through your orgasm.

When you finally come down from the high, you open your eyes to see him smirking at you.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

“Every single time, darling. I loved knowing exactly just how I made you feel,” he purrs.

“Twat.” You swat at his hand.

“Since we’ve already established that I do know and am comfortable with this.. current arrangement, do feel free to continue to do so at any time,” Astarion pecks your cheek.

“Besides. I’m sure in time I can join in on the festivities.”

The subtle shift his hips make as he says this tells you all you need to know. But of course you do not push.

In time could mean now, or never, but you don’t really care.

You had everything you’d ever need the moment he agreed to be yours.

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @tragedybunny @spacebarbarianweird

[bringmeanangel]

Overwhelmed

Pairing: Spencer Reid and GN!Reader Warning: Reader is overwhelmed. Slight Anxiety. Mentions being nauseous, but no getting sick. fluff, maybe angst if you squint. No use of Y/N. Synopsis: Spencer comes home from a tough case to find you on the bathroom floor from being overwhelmed. A/N: This is also one I posted on AO3, but I'm posting it here. I think we could all use a Spencer.

You have been doing a lot lately, every single weekend was busy and almost every day this month was filled with stuff to do.

You barely even had time to see your boyfriend with him at work for the FBI and going away for cases.

Spencer was going to be home late tonight, it had been a stressful case.

As you were getting ready for bed, you started to feel nauseous, hot and you could feel your heart racing.

The last thing you needed was to have him come home and take care of you. 

You got in your pajamas, turned your fan on in your room and made your way to the bathroom.

You went to lay down on the floor which was nice and cool, when you heard the door open and you sighed.

Spencer was home. You took a deep breath and called out to him. You heard fast footsteps and suddenly those soft eyes of your boyfriend were looking at you.

“I’m okay” you laughed slightly, putting him at ease. “I just got overwhelmed.” 

“Your symptoms?” he crouched down, not touching you yet.

“Not bad as usual. I feel nauseous, but I know I wont be sick. It was hot, but the fan is on in the bedroom. My heart is racing.”

You relaxed when you felt him place two fingers on your pulse point on your neck.

He always knew what you needed, but it made him feel less panicked with how calm you were considering.

“Okay, why don’t you  focus on what you can see, hear, feel, smell and taste.” he kept his voice soft.

“M’I’m going to close my eyes and just focus on hear, feel, smell and taste.” he gave a soft smile.

“When you’re ready, we’ll go to our room and I’ll turn on the fairy lights. You can put your sleep mask on. I know you won't see the lights, but you’ll know they’re there. I'm going to keep my fingers on your pulse, because it’s quite elevated.” 

"you're so nice to me" you mumbled out, eyes closed.

"That's because I love you" he whispered.

After a few moments you opened your eyes and gave a gentle smile to your caring boyfriend.

You nodded, Spencer stood up and went to your room to turn the twinkle lights on and the bedroom lights off. You made your way to the bedroom.

“How was the case?” you asked and picked up the sleep mask. 

“It was good, but we can talk about that tomorrow. Laying on the floor and focusing on the senses relaxed you, I want to keep you in that calmed state, it’ll help you fall asleep faster.” Spencer said 

“Okay.” you smiled softly.

You climbed into bed and put the sleep mask on, you tucked yourself in and got comfortable.

You pulled the sleep mask over your eyes and took slow breaths and heard Spencer hum in approval.

You felt the bed dip and he placed his two fingers on your pulse. 

He watched as you relaxed more. You felt safe. This was exactly what you needed.

You weren’t sure when, but suddenly you woke up to your alarm going off. You pushed the sleep mask off and looked over to see Spencer there, watching you. 

"Morning" he smiled

“Morning” you smiled back.

“You went right to bed last night.” he said happily.

you blushed. “Thanks for that, I really needed it.”

"Anytime, love."

[freakingholland]

freakingholland's batboys headcanons part 1

A/N: Hi cuties! After posting some dc comics related imagines over the last couple of years I've decided to finally post a list of my own headcanons for batboys! Just a disclaimer - these are based on multiple dc related media (comics, shows, fan-made content) as well as just my imagination. I do not mean any harm with these! Also if you agree/disagree with these let me know in the comments/asks/rbs because I'm super intrested in what you guys think and your own fanons! Stay whelmed xx questions/ideas here! - rules here my AO3 archive is here If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland masterlist

Dick Grayson (25-29ish yo)

Wears contacts all the time when he’s out. His sight used to be perfect up until puberty. Only wears prescription glasses when he knows he’ll spend the entire day wearing sunglasses – has prescription on them (he does have an emergency pair of regular glasses though).

Has a deep set of dimples. More visible when he’s a dehydrated raisin of a human being. He has a special bottle for just water to force himself to drink more.

Is left handed. His siblings bother him for that matter when he accidentally elbows somebody while eating.

Is “silently” addicted to energy drinks. Has tried to switch to other beverages but ultimately always goes back to energy drinks.

Sings in the shower, has a genuinely good singing voice. Pretends to be shy when people suggest doing karaoke.

Has chronic wrist pain due to a bad fracture.

Is a minimalist. Hates clutter and frequently gets rid of things like clothes, unnecessary gadgets, kitchen utensils etc.

Loves rock climbing and bouldering.

Has pockmarks on his cheeks. Had tried different products to make them fade away, but gave up and accepted his fate.

Uses a lot of post-it notes around his apartment.

Jason Todd (22-24ish yo)

Jason is the only one with brown eyes. You cannot convince me otherwise. Don’t try to.

He’s the best cook out of all the guys. Finds it very therapeutic. Genuinely enjoys making meals especially if others can stop by for dinner or pick up his food. (always makes me think of those pics of him and Dick in the kitchen in Gotham Knights!)

Has type 1 diabetes, uses a pump. (As mentioned here!)

Has a private library stamp for his book collection because any time someone visits him, somebody borrows (steals) books from him.

Plays the violin, self-taught as an adult. It’s his “safe” hobby that convinces his neighbours that he’s just a regular guy.

Has a full arm tattoo sleeve, it’s his way of dealing with body dysmorphia and body image issues. His tattoos include book references, fav movie characters and different symbols for all of the siblings (not their super hero stuff though, for safety reasons).

Has reading glasses. (As mentioned here!)

Hates arugula, loves Italian cuisine. He is not afraid of carbs (his glucose monitor states otherwise) and makes noodles often.

Has wavy hair but doesn’t use proper products for his texture.

Has veryyy straight teeth naturally. Others are jealous.

Tim Drake (20-21ish yo)

Journals. Even when he’s severely sleep deprived. It’s his way of dealing with heavy stuff, but also his archive in case he goes missing.

Has a nintendo switch. Doesn’t really use it but he knows that Damian steals it that’s why he keeps it instead of selling it.

Has a proper skin care routine. It includes dying his hair dark every 4 weeks cause he has gray hairs due to stress.

Uses ktape regularly. Struggles with chronic back pain and uses a foam roller.

Is vegan. Doesn’t try to convince other peeps to switch to veganism knowing that they are barely capable of making food for themselves. Will make an exception and eat meat if it’s a meal prepared by somebody close to him.

Is a huge music fan, listens to music often. Mostly metal, but also pop, rap. Doesn’t really discriminate music genres.

Loves playing board games. Is the type to bring board games to social meetings of sorts in case people want to play.

Has a very pleasant, contagious laugh. Rarely laughs out loud, but those who know his laugh try hard to make him laugh for that matter.

Has really sparse facial hair. Would like to grow out a stache or beard but cannot.

Blushes very easily. Doesn’t like it. Despises cold temperatures for that matter.

[myfictionaldreams]

Steddie x reader where reader is like leader of cheer squad (so ages match up) they love her in her outfit and definitely use it against her during sex. “Come on baby yell for us.” “Give us a D give us a A ….. DADDY.” “We won’t be able to hear you with a shout like that.”

Totally keeps the cheer outfit on too. Sorry just a quick thought.

Give me a D! // Steddie x Fem!Reader

A/N: thank you so so much for requesting this!!! I've changed it up a little bit to go with my Steddie series but I hope you enjoy it! sorry it's a little filthy

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, threesome, dom/sub, pet names, restraints, teasing, fingering, degradation, spit kink, praise kink, namecalling, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, hand job, deepthroating, hair pulling, overstimulation, creampie (x2), flexibility, safe word use (yellow), choking, daddy/sir kink, subspace, rough sex, aftercare!!

Words: 7.5k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“Are you actually organising your stuff or are you just reading that old porn magazine again?” you yelled over your shoulder, not even needing to look at Steve to know what he was doing, he had been too quiet for too long. Your boyfriend confirmed your suspicions by slamming the magazine shut and dropping it into a cardboard box that had his name written on the side.

Despite the chaos in the living area caused by the numerous cardboard boxes, not much work had been achieved. Rolling your shoulders to ease the ache that had settled in the muscles from sitting in the same position for so long, you riffled through your belongings, sitting crossed-legged and hunched over. Even with this, you couldn't help but smile when Steve began to crawl over to you, shuffling closer. The affection grew to a toothy grin as Steve knelt tall behind your body, his face nuzzling into the side of your neck as his arms wrapped around your body.

“I still don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for”, he grumbled, already bored even though all he’d been able to accomplish so far was opening up one box, finding the porn magazine and flicking through idly until he was semi-hard in his jeans.

You tried not to roll your eyes and sigh as you explained to him, “Pick out anything that you don’t want anymore, I’ve told you this a hundred times now, Steve”.

As you continued to explore through your stuff, you were momentarily stopped as a warm hand cupped under your chin, tilting your face back until you were looking up at an upside-down Steve. “So sassy today”, he commented under his breath, closing the gap slowly to kiss your lips as his fingers stroked down your neck in lazy circles. Just as you were beginning to relax fully into the touch, leaning your weight further back into his firm body, did Steve pull away from the kiss, “So what am I looking for? And If you could explain without the sass that would be great”.

You had a coy smile as you explained as calmly as possible, “I want us to donate to the charity event this weekend that's helping to support the Hawkins attack a year and a half ago”. 

Steve’s hair shadowed his face as he seemed to think about everything he owned before deciding, “But I don’t have anything I want to donate”.

“Steve, you have more stuff than Eddie and me combined. I’m sure there’s something you can get rid of now please, move away and stop distracting me. This is why I’ve asked you to help me and not Eddie because you know that boy can not do one task without being distracted by something else”.

Thankfully for once, he did as you asked with a last lingering kiss to your chin before crawling over to another box, opening the lid and pausing at what he saw. Fabric in the colours green, white and yellow were folded nicely into a pile at the top of the box. He frowned before glancing at the side of the box, not realising he’d opened one of yours and low and behold, the words scribbled on the side were your name and hobbies. It was now Steve’s turn to bite his bottom lip to hold back the gleeful laugh he wanted to burst out with as he gently pinched the thin material of the shirt, lifting it to fully inspect the treasure he’d found.

Turning his body towards yours, he coughed to gain your attention, “I can’t believe you’ve still got this”.

“Hmm? What’s that?”, you only briefly glanced over your shoulder, not thinking anything much of what he could have found, you didn’t have anything exciting hidden away. Or so you thought as your eyes widen and your body instinctively turned towards him. “Where did you find that?” Reaching over, you tried to snatch it off of him but Steve held it back and out of your reach.

“Hey! Finders keepers and all that”, he paused, looking at the material with a questioning, thoughtful gaze before a shit-eating grin bloomed across his handsome face. “So, you kept it.”

The apples of your cheeks warmed as you contemplated what to say to stop Steve from looking at you like he’d just won the jackpot. Your mind, however, was blank of any thought so eventually you gave up and released a deep sigh, shoulders dropping as you explained, “Yes I kept my cheerleading uniform, my life revolved around it for years and I wanted to keep it as a for the memories”.

Steve glanced down at the top he held in his hands and then into the box where your skirt was still neatly folded, “Ah, the matching skirt”, he teased. 

“Shut up”, you mumbled, embarrassed and tried to snatch the shirt out of his hands but he swiftly stood and held it above his head, knowing you wouldn’t be able to reach it. You still tried though as you stood up on your tip toes to get back your uniform. Steve smirked at your pathetic attempts to reach for the top. “Please could you stop looking at me like that please, I’m embarrassed enough as it is”.

“Why would you be embarrassed? You were great at cheerleading from what I remember, weren’t you the head cheerleader for a while as well?”

Now not only were your cheeks warm but your entire body as he revealed that he remembered you from high school. “Yes I was until I was dropped and hit my head, why do you think I hate heights so much?”

Thankfully Steve didn’t tease you on this and even offered you a sad smile but as he inspected the uniform again, the taunting smile returned as one of his sleek eyebrows raised, “I’ll only give you this back if you go and try it on for me”.

You hoped your expression showed how much his idea was absolutely not happening. “Steve, I’m not putting that on”.

Steve took a step forward, hope twinkling in his warm-honey eyes as he pleaded, “Please, just once”.

With one last trick up his sleeve, he smiled down at you, giving you the look that always has your heartbeat quickening and butterflies tumbling in your stomach. You gave a reluctant sigh and he knew you had finally given in to his request. As you looked at the skirt in the box, you doubted, “I don’t think it’ll even fit anymore”.

Steve holds the top but the shoulders and presses it against your front, “Looks like it’ll fit just fine to me but even if it’s not for me, please just try it on for Eddie, and if they don’t fit into them then we’ll put them away and never mention anything about it again.”

“I don’t think Eddie would enjoy me wearing this”, you mused, picking up the uniform and taking the top off of Steve.

Your boyfriend frowned at your statement, “Why not? I think he’d love it”.

“Because it’s a reminder of all the assholes who used to bully him at school”.

Steve leans close to you, his breath fanning across your lips, “Please Baby, we’ll both love it, I promise”.

“If I have to wear it, does that mean you’ll get to wear whatever I’d like to wear another time?”

Steve didn’t even need a second to contemplate before agreeing to your terms, “Deal”.

Deciding it was easier to get changed out of Steve’s grabby hands, you raced to the bathroom and began to try on your old uniform. Even though you were able to get the top and skirt on, it was still tighter than it used to be due to not having to be exercising as rigorously as you used to and the tightness meant that it was a little bit shorter. Revealing the bare skin of your waist and nearly all of your thighs. As well s this, because you didn't have the special undergarments like you used to that matched the same shade of green as the uniform, if you so much as bent over the slightest bit, your lacy blue underwear would be revealed.

You looked more like you’d bought a cheerleading outfit from a cheap dress-up store than this being the official high-school uniform you used to cherish on a daily basis. Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time, you looked yourself over one more time in the bathroom mirror and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Here she is, head cheerleader for Hawkins High School, ready to woo the boys”, Steve hollers at you before his voice trailed off as he fully took in your appearance from where he sat on the couch. One word to describe how he was exploring your body with his eyes was: hungry. It even made you a little self-conscious as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other and awkwardly crossed your arms to cover your chest. “The socks makes the outfit even more special Babe”.

Looking down at your body, you shuffled your feet that still had the pink fluffy socks that you’d had on all day. The tension eased slightly from your shoulders just as Steve begins to stand.

“Eddie’s going to lose his fucking mind when he sees you”, Steve mutters to himself, moving ever so slowly closer and then around you, taking in every inch of the outfit until he stops in front of you again.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you ask, “Happy now?”

Steve’s full lips part like he was going to answer but he snaps them shut and slowly smirks instead, lifting his hands to stroke his fingers across your exposed midriff, his eyes never left yours though. “I’m very happy right now, Princess”. The low, husky tone he speaks in as your thighs clench together as arousal pools in your core. Steve noticed the movement of your legs, his eyes darkening beneath the strand of hair that had fallen across his forehead.

Neither of you say anything, not when his fingers seemed to be doing all of the talking as he inched them over your top until resting against your nipple that was physically peaked beneath the thin material. You’d not bothered to put on a bra today seeing as you weren’t planning on leaving the trailer today and with the uniform being tight, it only accentuated the outline of your breasts and most importantly your hard nipples.

Steve looked like he was a second away from snapping and you wanted nothing more than for him to do such a thing, especially as he presses his thumb down on the peak, causing you to release the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

The heavy screech of Eddie’s van tyres snapped you both away from the heated moment. You quickly turned on the spot, stepping back towards the bathroom with the intent of changing back into the clothes you were just wearing. Steve on the other hand had other ideas as he caught your wrist and tugged you back to his chest, your other wrist was then easily manouvered to join the other so now both of your wrists were pinned behind your back as you faced the front door to the trailer.

“Steve, please I need to go and get changed”, you chastised over your shoulder as you heard Eddie’s happy whistling as he clambered out of his van.

“Why? I told you he’s going to love it”.

“He won’t, I know he won’t, you don’t understand how badly they all treated him”.

“You’re being dramatic Babe, just wait and see”, he continues to be at ease over the situation and his eyes were almost gleaming when Eddie finally stepped through the door, the whistle tune stopping as he stared at you and Steve.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his eyes exploring your outfit just as hungrily as Steve's.

Before Steve could answer, you quickly blurted out, “Steve found my old uniform and made me try it on and I was trying to go and change it but he wouldn’t let me”.

Eddie steps closer, only stopping when he was close enough that you could smell the recent cigarette on his work clothes and breath, something you used to detest but now reminded you so much of him. His chocolate brown eyes devoured your body, moving slowly and not revealing whether he was happy or pissed off.

Gently, he pressed two of his fingers against the tip of your chin, tilting it up so that you were both face to face. “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you wearing this?” he asked with an eerie calm that had your nerves still on edge.

“I... I didn’t think you’d want to be reminded of high school or the people I used to cheer with”, you explained in a soft voice, trying to sound sympathetic.

Eddie’s eyes widen for a split second and then his gaze hardened, his fingers remaining against your chin to keep your face in place, “I don’t care about them, I only care about you. Even if you were playing basketball with that prick Jason, I’d still want to know everything about it, Angel”.

This right here was one of the reasons you had fallen so quickly in love with Eddie Munson. He was so selfless and caring with also the edge of being dominant and demanding with his stance, it always made you feel like you wanted to melt into the floor with how gooey your insides felt.

“Eddie”, you whispered lovingly, about to tell him just how much you cared for him but he cut off any words as he continued to talk, his voice low and rugged.

“I always watched you during practice, you know, from a distance”. This admission had you slightly taken aback, you knew of Steve and Eddie, everyone knew of them at school. Steve Harrington the heartthrob and Eddie the freak Munson, but you never dared to speak to either, just admiring from the back of classrooms or lingering glances at the end of the corridors for two opposing men you thought didn’t even know your name until you’d met them at work. Eddie noticed your shocked expression as he continued to explain, “Just because we didn’t talk at school, doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you, Sweetheart, always up in the air with this little skirt, but of course, I’d never look”, he teased, pulling a smile from the corner of your lips.

“You might not have, but I certainly did”, Steve whispered into your ear from behind you, where he was still holding your arms behind your back. You tried to turn and look at him, also shocked that he had been watching you whilst at school as well but Eddie firmly held your jaw so you were forced to continue to look into his pretty eyes.

“Such a perv”, Eddie taunts as he flicked his gaze towards Steve and finally releases your face so that he could reach for his boyfriend, hand cupping the back of his head and pulling him forward for a searing kiss. Steve groaned deep in his chest which vibrated against your back as he tried to also move closer to Eddie which forced your front against the other man's chest.

A high-pitched noise bubbled from the back of your throat as you were thoroughly squished between the two of them. Eddie pulled back first, releasing his grip on Steve to rest it against your hip as he took a tiny step back to look down at you once more, his lower lip sticking out condescendingly. “Aw, is our sweet little cheerleader feeling lonely?”

Shivering under his intense gaze, you tried to pull your arms out of Steve’s hold but to no avail as he continued to hold tightly, his thumb occasionally stroking against the soft skin of your inner wrist, giving you some comfort.

Eddie’s eyes roamed over your outfit, his fingers beginning to explore your body just as Steve’s had, His fingertips were rough and hard as he began at your hairline, stroking back a strand of hair that had blurred your vision. Slowly and with intent, he moved over your cheekbone, down your jaw and throat, caressing your collarbones as he finally grazed the tops of your breast, pressing down firmly over your still-perked nipples, causing more noises to come from you. The colours of his eyes seemed to darken further at your noise but he continued on his journey, teasing over the exposed skin at your waistline, down your hip and only pausing when he reached the bottom of your shortened skirt.

You were breathing hot, heavy breaths with the anticipation of his fingers delving beneath your skirt and against your ticklish inner thighs, reaching the edge of your panties, pushing them aside so that he could stroke a single finger between your folds.

“So wet for us already, our horny little cheerleader, aren’t you?” he mused, spreading your juices up to your clit. Your hips bucked against his movements, wanting to feel more of him, mewling pathetically as you raised onto your tip toes with the hope that he would see how much you wanted him.

Thankfully he was happy to oblige to your whimpers as he circled your clit, not applying much pressure but just feeling the roughness of his guitar-playing fingers was enough to satisfy. Your head lulls back against Steve’s chest, eyes closed as you allowed Eddie to play between your legs.

Eddie watched you intensely, his cock almost painful inside of his black jeans at watching how hot you looked succumbing to his touches. “Always wanted to do this”, he mused, “How scandalous would it be, the head cheerleader with the school freak”.

That word split through your pleasured bubble as your eyebrows furrowed, looking up at Eddie as you remarked, “Not a freak, Eddie”.

“Ah, but I am a freak when it comes to you”, his eyes twinkled in the late afternoon light, a smile forming on his face and deepening his dimples as he raised his other hand to grip your cheeks, squishing your lips together and forcing them to open. “Wider”, he demanded with a tilt of his head. You opened your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out, knowing exactly what he was going to do, it was degrading and dirty but when Eddie started to tip into this dominant head space, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

Eddie spat into your mouth, the saliva landing on your tongue where you immediately swallowed it, tasting him and cigarettes. You never used to like doing this but seeing the look on Eddie’s face, the blush that crawled up his neck as his arousal peaked and the praises you knew were sure to come, it only turned you on more to have such a degrading act done.

“So fucking good to me, aren’t you? Swallowing my spit like a pretty angel, such a good girl, our good girl”, every word went straight to your core, causing your pussy to throb and clench and hips to move faster, wanting him, needing him. Eddie observes you for a second, looking as if he was going to combust right then and there before he retracted his fingers from your clit and down to your hole and brought his attention to Steve. “Want to feel how wet she is?”

Steve didn’t say a single word as he continued to hold your wrists behind your back with one hand and whilst looking down your shoulder, he slipped his other hand under your skirt and down the front of your panties. The two of them moved at the same time, Steve circling your clit and Eddie pushing a single digit into your pussy, moving in and out in time with Steve’s circles.

“You are soaked Princess, is that just for us?” Steve asked in a low tone whilst rutting his hips into your palms so you could feel his erection in his jeans.

“Always for you two ”, you sound breathless as you continue to look up at Eddie and lean your upper body against Steve for support as your thighs were shaking with all the stimulation between your legs.

Steve chuckles in your ear, biting the lobe for a second before mocking, “Our slutty little cheerleader”. You mewl at the name, usually, your praise kink needed to be stroked just as much as your pussy but today, standing between them, the spitting and the names were welcomed to create a scenario of breaking the rules with the outfit you were wearing. 

Eddie noticed just how much you enjoyed this as well as your hole clenched around his middle finger. The curly-haired man chuckled down at you whilst licking his bottom lip, “Oh, you like it when he calls you that? What are you thinking about right now, Sweetheart?”

Your mind is buzzing, skin prickling with heat as the boxes and plan to organise had been long forgotten about. “I’m imagining us, in the janitor's store room, we’re hiding from everyone but, I could see you both as I’m performing and I’m so desperate for you both, so wet, so needy, I want you to touch me - ah, right there! Please don’t stop-”.

Your rambling becomes incoherent as Eddie added a second finger, curling them against your pleasurable nerves inside your pussy as Steve pressed harder against your clit, increasing in speed. Everything felt so good, you wish you could tell them how good your body felt, how much you needed them, wanted them but your tongue felt too heavy.

“So naughty”, Steve mumbled into the shell of your ear. You can smell his hair as it stroked your cheek, the lemon shampoo and the copious amounts of the hairspray that he’d used.

Eddie’s masterful fingers curled and pumped inside of you, the hand on your face squeezing once more forcing your mouth to open again so that your moans split out without any restraint as you felt the beautiful spark between your legs. “You gonna cum for us, pretty slut? I can feel you tightening around my fingers”.

“Ye-Yes, please can I cum? I can’t- I can’t hold it, I need…”, your words were blurring together and Eddie chuckled at how desperate you looked. However, his condescending laugh was the complete opposite of his sweet touch as he kissed your temple once, “You can cum for us, been so good for us so far, haven’t you, that’s it, around my fingers, cum for us”.

The two of them encouraged you through your orgasm, your insides burning with pleasure, knees trembling and struggling to keep you upright as your boyfriends coaxed your orgasm as far as it could go before you slumped fully against Steve.

Your eyes had clenched close in the process so you didn’t see Eddie sucking on his soaked fingers but you certainly heard his dirty moans before he again tilted your face so that he could kiss the tip of your nose in a second of comfort before his hard exterior returned.

“Do you wanna show me how much you missed me today?” Eddie asked whilst releasing your face.

Opening your eyes, you knew you probably looked a mess, eyes glazed, unsteady on your feet but his words were like more praises as your mouth began to water of its own accord as you moaned, “Yes, please”.

Eddie’s eyes latch onto Steve as the man behind you released his hold on your wrists and immediately you were dropping to your knees, the carpet comforting against your skin. Eddie stepped closer, his crotch now at eye level as your fingers fumbled to undo his chained belt, the metal clanging as you raced to try and get to the area you wanted most. You could feel his cock, throbbing in the confines of his jeans and boxers as his belt opened, the button was undone and the zipper was down. You push his clothes down over his hips until his cock was bobbing in front of you.

He was rock hard, the tip a darker shade of pink compared to the shaft and already leaking beads of precum. Without wasting a second to tease him like you usually did, your lips wrapped around his cock, tasting the salty goodness and lapping it up with a few licks before taking more of his length to the back of your throat and sucking. Eddie sucked in a quick breath, his thighs clenching under where your hands rested against them as he quickly grabbed the back of your head.

You’re still crowded around them both, kneeling between them and shaking slightly from your orgasm but the adrenaline of it all had your throat relaxing, desperate to please him just as much as he’d pleased you, taking more and more of his length until his curly hair at the base of his cock was nearly brushing against your nose.

Eddie was cursing and shaking nearly as much as you as his hands disappear from the back of your head. Glancing back up at him as you bob your head up and down on his cock, you could see Steve and Eddie making out.

Their lips and tongues clashed together, both their hands trying to undress one another, needing to feel each other’s naked bodies. Eddie was swifter and more skilled with removing clothes as he had Steve’s jeans pushed down his hips and his hand wrapped around his cock and pumping with long strokes. Steve gasps, his eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against Eddie’s mouth hanging open as he thrust into Eddie’s palm before his fingers delved into the soft curls and pulled him into another burning kiss.

The position you were in was hot, sweat dripping down your temple and spine beneath your uniform, especially as the two men removed the remaining of their clothes from above you continued to become more heated with their kisses and touches. Neither deem to dominate the other which always seemed to be the case when the three of you were intimate, they were both in charge but had different ways in which they displayed this.

Eddie’s fist increased his speed as he pulled back and looked down at you on your knees still. “You look so pretty on your knees for me”, you smiled around his cock and sucked him harder, causing his hips to jut forward. “Shit! Do that again, you can take more of me I know you can”.

You loved seeing the competition in his eyes as you raised slightly up, taking a deep breath through your nose and sucked him harder and tried to swallow his entire length, gagging but keeping him there wanting to pleasure him, even as your eyes filled with tears. Eddie always liked to push your limits but you try and relax to not overwhelm yourself as his bush again tickled your nose.

“Angel, I’m going to cum already if you do that again”, Eddie admits as he watches Steve hold back your hair that was damp with sweat. Hearing those words from Eddie, only drove you to make him cum, wanting to taste his seed so you moved faster, sucking his heavy cock with more power and need.

Eddie on the other hand did not appreciate this as he released Steve’s cock to grab his hand instead, pulling your hair back harshly so that you were moved off of his cock and you couldn’t help but grin up at him, a string of salviia conneting your lips and his cock. Eddie was flushed and breathing heavily as he stared down at you. “Didn’t say I wanted to cum did I?”, he retorted at you.

However, it was Steve who spoke next, breathing just as heavily as Eddie. “You know, I used to remember her being one of the loudest during cheer, why don’t we try it out?”

Frowning at his idea, embarrassed by the thought of having to shout whatever it is that they had in mind, you tried and pull against their hold on their head to return sucking of Eddie but they held onto you firmly. “I guess you’re right, can’t cheer with my cock in your mouth. Why don’t we try something else, stand up for us, Sweetheart”.

Eddie and Steve release your hair and firmly grip under your arms, helping you to stand and steady yourself with how wobbly your legs now felt after being on your knees for so long. “Come here, Honey”, Steve instructs, his strong hands still supporting you as he now smiled down at you. 

Then you’re completely hypnotised by Steve as he presses his lips to yours, slowly and deeply kissing and tasting you, moaning as hints of Eddie coated Steve’s tongue as he pushes it into your mouth. With his distraction, you were hardly aware of his wandering hands as they reached under your skirt and pushed the flimsy material of your panties down until they rested at your thighs.

It was only when his hand spanked your arse did you pull away from his mouth to gasp loudly at the sting that settled across the soft skin of your cheek. Steve spanked again, the noise sharp in your ears as he then massaged the area before turning you around so that you were facing Eddie, “I need to feel you, Princess”.

Steve rested a heavy hand against your shoulder, pushing your upper body against Eddi’es so your face rested against his warm chest and your skirt was lifted to expose your ass to him.  Steve curses taking in the sight of you slightly bent over, all pretty and cock drunk and waiting for him to fuck you. With his cock still wet from your lips, he reached down, sliding his hips closer to yours and slowly eased his cock into your soaked pussy.

“Ah- Steve!”, your moans were like sweet music to his ear as he slowly begins to rock his hips, his hands massaging your hips before one clenched into your hair, yanking your head back so pain flashes through your scalp. You love it however as you clench tighter around him, even at the odd angle that your neck is not bent, exposing the front of it to Eddie as you held on tightly to his shoulders so that you didn’t topple over.

“That’s better!”, Eddie encourages as he strokes the back of his finger against your cheek, wiping some salvia that had dribbled there. “Now, where were we? Oh yes! Come on Angel, yell for us”.

Your silence was enough that Steve stopped fucking you, his lips hovering over your ear as you whimpered at him to keep going. “You want me to carry on, then you’re going to listen to Eddie, understood?”

“Yes, I understand”, you whined whilst trying to rock yourself back on Steve’s cock.

“Good”, Steve began moving in and out of you once more, his hips snapping against yours as he spoke. “Give me a D, give me an A, give me a D D Y!”

Your body trembled with embarrassment but you did just as instructed, “D A D D Y”, you mumbled in a half-assed volume.

Eddie shook his head, “We won’t be able to hear you with a shout like that”, he chastised. “Again! And louder this time so that everyone in the trailer park can hear”.

With each snap of Steve’s hips, you shouted a letter until you were hollering the word DADDY loud enough that the neighbours were sure to hear. Eddie was loving it with how hard his cock was throbbing in front of you, especially looking over your shoulder and seeing how flushed Steve was as he continued to fuck you as you shouted the nickname that you liked to call him during intimate moments like this.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now what about me?” Eddie mocked before he lifted your cheerleading top, exposing your breasts of which he promptly dropped his height to suck on each of your nipples in turn. Your nails dug into his shoulders as his teeth nipped harshly on the peak, then licked the pain away. 

You let out a quivering moan as you work up the courage to shout, S I R, with Steve’s thrusts. Eddie laughs around your breast at your pathetic attempts but knew you were teetering on the edge of going too far with his degradation so he sweetly kissed the side of your stomach. “Doing so well for us Angel, taking Steve’s cock like that, doing everything we tell you to. Jesus H. Christ, how did we get so lucky?”

You mewl at the praises, starting to feel overwhelmed at the harsh touches of your hair still being pulled on, your breasts being groped and played with by Eddie and the cock that was desperately fucking your cunt, causing loud squelches from how wet you were. But then there were his words, the little kisses from both of your boyfriends and despite all of the degrading and teasing, you still held so much affection and love for them both. You wanted to tell them just how much you adored them however the words that tumbled from your lips were an incoherent mess.

“I…I - Lov- Want you- Need you-”, there were almost tears forming in your eyes with how frustrated you were getting with yourself for not being able to tell them how much you loved them. Steve and Eddie didn’t need to hear though as they simultaneously kisses the closest body part, Steve your shoulder and Eddie your sternum.

“I know Honey, it’s a lot, isn’t it? You’re doing amazing Baby, wanna cum on my cock?”

“Yes…please”, you sob, clinging to Eddie as he began to move lower, your hands now holding onto his hair.

“Always so polite”, Eddie chuckles as he watches Steve slow his thrusts but only so he could fuck you deeply and each stroke caressed every single nerve in your pussy. This was then when the long-haired man spread your legs further apart which was limited by the panties still around your thighs but it gave him just enough room to dip his head down and lick your clit.

You weren’t able to ask for permission to cum as you saw stars, breath catching in your throat as your whole body shivered and throbbed with your orgasm. Once again they both had to hold you up as your cunt spasmed around Steve’s cock and he tipped his head back trying not to cum but it was no use. “Shit, sh-it, you’re so tight Baby, I’m cumming, that’s it, take it all!”. You could feel his cum spurting into your cunt, coating your walls and dripping out of the edge and down your thighs.

You all but slumped forward completely onto Eddie as he finally stood back up. Steve on the other hand had pulled out of you and was removing your panties completely from your body, using two fingers to push his cum back into your still fluttering hole. Eddie admired your dazed face for a second before stroking your hair away from your ear, “Shall we show Steve just how flexible you are?”

Giving him a simple nod, Eddie walks you over to the couch, lying you down on your back, your breasts still exposed and your skirt now bunched around your waist. Eddie gives you a proud smile, leaning down to kiss you softly and sweetly, a touch that had you craving more and groaning as he moved away. His rings were cool against your thighs as he began to push your legs back until your knees were by your shoulders.

In this position and basically being folded in half, you could see how soaked your pussy and the tops of your thighs were with your juices and feel Steve’s cum oozing out and down over your asshole. “Can’t let that go to waste now can we?” Eddie mumbles, dipping down and licking up the cum and swallowing it all. You and Steve groaned desperately at the sight before you’re being distracted as Eddie knelt properly over you and began to slide his cock into your cunt.

Eddie holds you down and fucks you fast and hard, the cushions of the couch springing your body up and down which only helped with his momentum. At one point Steve stood behind you and began to hold down your legs so that Eddie could stroke your clit in rough swipes.

Your orgasm hit you like a train, and as you were being held down, you couldn't wither and move to release the tension that was pulsing through you. It was so thoroughly intense that you couldn’t even form words anymore but Eddie kept going, fucking you through your orgasm that it formed into another. However, this time, as he fucked you hard and deep, his tip brushing against your cervix and g-spot with each thrust, it was too overwhelming for you and everywhere between your legs felt too sensitive.

As the next orgasm clenches through you, your moans stutter as you struggle to catch your breath and when your face clenches tightly and the noises coming from your mouth change, was when Eddie notice that you might have been too overwhelmed.

Eddie grabs your chin, forcing you to look towards him but your eyes are closed so he leans down to kiss your nose. “What’s your colour, Sweetheart?”

“Ye-yel-yello-”, you can’t even form the word properly but he understands enough. Steve releases your legs, easing them on either side of Eddi’es body as he crowds down around you, like an overheated cocoon, the small space helping to ground you. The two of you catch your breaths as Steve strokes your hair away from your face where it nuzzled into Eddie’s neck.

“Want me to pull out?” Eddie asks, kissing your cheek gently and pushing up on his hands so that he could look at your face again where it's a lot more relaxed than it had been.

“No, No I just need a second”, you explained, feeling too sensitive that you didn’t want him to move anything down there, knowing the sensation would pass in a moment, just needed to calm down enough that you wanted to continue. If you’d shouted red, he knew to pull out and find out what was hurting or scaring you but when you said yellow, it was mostly because you just needed a moment before it became too overwhelming.

Eddie and Steve continue to hold you for a couple of minutes and after taking a deep breath, you dared to open flutter open your eyes and look at both men. “I’m ok, it just felt like a lot but I’m green, I promise”.

Steve gives you an upside down kiss from where he stood over you both and then Eddie drops down kisses down your neck, moving his hips slowly, being careful like you were fragile and close to breaking but you appreciated the careful movements. However as your arousal quickly builds again, you’re wanting it harder and faster.

Reaching behind you for Steve’s hand, you placed it around your neck, wanting him to choke you which he did with a deep chuckle as your legs wrapped tightly around Eddie’s hips, encouraging him as well. Eddie didn’t need to be told twice and he was soon fucking you vigorously as Steve applied the slightest bit of pressure, not enough that you were struggling to breathe but enough to have you feeling light and dizzy.

“Look so pretty like this beneath me, taking my cock so well, I’m gonna cum now Angel, you gonna take it all like a good girl?”

“Yes Sir”, you gasp as he shifted his hips and began to fuck directly into your g-spot. Instantly your legs dropped open as you were once more overwhelmed with pleasure and cumming with Eddie who grunted just as loudly as you moaned through each of your orgasms.

As soon as he stopped spilling his seed, he pulled out and moved away but was swiftly replaced by Steve who sat back on the couch and pulled your trembling body into his arms. You’re still moaning, clenching and shivering as he holds you close, lips against your temple as he whispered sweet praises to you, “Did so well for both of us, so proud of you babe, we’re gonna look after you ok? Just take a few deep breaths for me, I need you to slow you breathing down, that’s it, well done”. 

You hadn’t even realised just how panicked your body was reacting to being overstimulated and thoroughly fucked, drifting into a submissive space of needing the comfort of their warm bodies. Each word that Steve spoke, you mentally clung onto, slowing your breathing down which in turn settled your disorientated mind.

You were still shaking as if you were cold, even though you were still half-dressed in the cheerleader uniform as you nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his smell. This was when another pair of hands rested against your thighs, easing them open slightly. “Careful Sweetheart, just going to clean you”. Even though Eddie was soft and tender with his touches, you still couldn’t help from flinching at the contact of the warm cloth stroking over your puffy, used pussy. “All done, now I need you to drink this for us”.

You turn your head towards the voice and then a glass is pressed against your lips, opening your mouth, Eddie helps you to drink the glass of water before you once more nuzzle into Steve. “Are you in pain?” the man holding you asks. You’re still feeling floaty so you try and shake your head, not wanting them to worry, only wanting to make them happy.

“I need to hear your words, Baby, you know that”, Steve continues, sitting up slightly so that you're forced to move away from his neck.

“N-No”, you whisper, giving the automatic answer but then you really thought about it, especially as the adrenaline began to wear off.

Eddie and Steve noted the stutter and shared a worried look. “You sure about that?” Eddie asked, his fingers interlocking with yours, another move to help ground you to the moment rather than getting lost between whether you were still in a dom/sub scene or the reality that it was over.

“N-no, I’m not sure”, you admit after a couple of minutes.

“Talk to us, what are you not sure about? Where does it hurt?” Steve encouraged.

“I have a tummy ache”, finally you admit, feeling a dull throb in your stomach, almost like a light period cramp.

“Sorry Sweetheart, did I go too hard?” Eddie asks guilty, his doe eyes wide with worry.

“No, you didn’t go too hard, I mean, I liked it”, you say, finally opening your eyes and smiling sweetly at him. Perking your lips Eddie got the hint and leaned forward for a gentle kiss before he stood and walked into the open kitchen area. A couple more minutes passed as the moisture that had formed on your skin began to cool, you shivered as a calm gust of air brushed over your body. Eddie returned then, with a hot water bottle which he pressed against your stomach, some pain relief that you took, a blanket and a bag of chips that Steve helped you to eat after taking a greedy handful for yourself.

“Was everything else ok?” Steve asked with a mouth full of snacks.

“Yeah, everything else was great”, you answer honestly and tiredly against his shoulder, still feeling limp in your body.

“What about needing a break? What happened there?” Eddie asked as he sat next to Steve, behind your back, crowding in close to you both once more.

“Just felt like a little too much, I knew I just needed a break, I wouldn’t have asked you to do anything differently”.

“What about you? Everything ok with you?” Steve asks Eddie as he feeds him a couple of chips.

“Yeah, everything was perfect with me, you?” Eddie asks, smiling genuinely at his boyfriend.

“Yeah, everything is perfect with me too”. The boys lean in and kiss each other slowly before Steve leans back with an idea, “Shall we go out for some food? I’ve heard there’s a new Italian a couple of blocks away from Nancy’s.”

You frown and open your eyes to look up to Steve who was now looking down at you with a shit-eating grin then you realise he was joking. “Funny Stevie, I don’t think I’m going to be on my feet any time soon but food does sound good and more than just chips”.

“How about I order in? Pretty sure I’ve got a couple of coupons in my car”, Steve manhandled and shuffled your body until you were in Eddie’s arms who was now dressed in so grey joggers and Steve rushed to the bedroom to find his own, then out of the front door to go to his car.

Snuggling in close to Eddie, feeling the heaviness of sleep starting to take over your body. That is until he whispers against your hair, “I bet you ten bucks you’re asleep before he comes back”.

Your eyes snap open as you look up at him, fighting sleep as you confidently responded, “You’re on Munson”.