#can you hear the sound of my soul leaving my body? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 days ago

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it's the next best thing - part three (ao3)

part one || part two

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson || ~22k, complete || phone sex || accidental love confessions || there was only one bed || getting together || mutual pining || porn with plot || smut || wet & messy || friends with benefits || oral sex || rimming

This is the final installment of my gift for @eyesofshinigami for @steddieexchange!

Eddie keeps calling, and Steve always answers. He wears a watch now, wants to count down the seconds until he’ll be able to hear Eddie’s voice again.

He doesn’t want to put a name to the thing fluttering around in his chest as the sound of Eddie’s voice filters down the line. Sometimes, Eddie invites him over, and that’s worse somehow. His skin aches to touch, cross any distance Eddie places between them in his bed, on his couch, in his van at the quarry, smoking together and watching the stars.

The phone sex is slowly replaced with the real thing, hands and bodies fumbling together in the darkness of Eddie’s room.

Eddie still calls, always, updating him on the latest Hellfire session, how Corroded Coffin is doing, what he’s been up to all day.

Sometimes Steve comes over, and they don’t even fuck. On those nights, settled in Eddie’s bed, listening to his even breathing, Steve has to remind himself that this is what friends do. It doesn’t mean anything that Eddie sleeps so soundly at his side, and it doesn’t mean anything when he wakes up with Eddie’s arms around him, face nuzzled into Steve’s neck, breaths puffing wetly against his neck, morning wood pressed into Steve’s hip.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Robin asks, head propped up by her hands, arms crossed beneath her head, elbow linked with Steve who’s laying right beside her.

They’ve been camped out in the Buckley’s living room all day, spending one of their rare days off together watching movies and tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths. When Robin had missed one too many times, she’d retaliated against Steve by dumping her entire bowl of extra-buttery popcorn atop his head.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” Steve whispers back, not looking away from the Buckley’s popcorn ceiling even as he feels Robin shift at his side.

He feels Robin’s arm slip free from his own, leaving him bereft. But then she’s hovering over him, cupping his cheeks with hands still slippery with butter and staring deeply into his eyes. “That boy is head over heels for you, dingus,” she says, not even blinking. When Steve tries to avert his gaze, she grabs his face more tightly, fingernails digging into skin. “It’s impossible not to be in love with you, okay?”

There’s a knot lodged in his throat as he stares up at the other half of his soul. “You’re not.”

She slaps him lightly, hit gentled even further by her oily palm. “I’m a lesbian,” she hisses, voice quiet like even though they’d gone out hours ago, she’s afraid her parents might hear her. “And you know I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”

“I always wanted a sexless marriage,” Steve replies.

“That’s what Eddie’s for.”

Steve shoves her off and wrestles her to the ground. They grapple like children, but Steve’s laughing now, hope bubbling out of him at every seam, like all he’d needed was Robin’s words to be able to picture a future he wants to grow old in.

Steve and Robin, a sexless marriage, and Eddie in his bed, at his side, so intertwined with his life that they’d need a crowbar to pry him out.

Robin wins the wrestling match, forearm against his chest pressing him down into the carpet. Steve’s future’s spooling out in front of him, he can almost taste the too-sweet coffee Eddie would make every morning, the rubbery eggs Eddie and Robin would serve with pride.

“You really think he likes me?” Steve asks, quiet, hopeful, wistful.

Robin snorts and drops down to his chest, rubbing her face against his shirt. “That boy’s in love with you,” she says with so much confidence that Steve almost believes her. “No way in hell he’s just in it for the sex.”

Steve hums but doesn’t reply. There’s nothing to say, no way to describe the squirming, writhing feelings lodged beneath his sternum, kicked up into a flurry by Robin’s words. He wraps his arms around her and squeezes tight, burying his nose in her hair, Sandra Dee serenading Danny Zuko on the TV behind them.

The movie plays to its inevitable conclusion: the boy always gets the girl in the movies, and as the credits roll, Steve glances down at his watch.

He jumps up on instinct, sending Robin sprawling on the carpet with a grunt. “The fuck?”

“It’s almost nine!” Steve cries rushing around the Buckley’s living room, picking up his wallet and keys from where they’d fallen out of his pocket. “I missed it!”

“Just call him,” Robin says, propping herself up on her elbows but otherwise not moving from where he’d left her.

“I don’t have his number,” Steve replies, already stuffing his feet into his sneakers, heels crushing the backs as he tries to wedge them on without having to untie them.

Eddie calls him, always. Steve has never called him back, has never had to.

“I do!” Robin calls, but Steve barely hears her, already out of the house and toward his car, ready to break every speed limit in the book to get to the Munson’s trailer in record time.

What will Eddie think? Will he be worried? Will he think Steve forgot about him? Or worse, will he not care at all?

He peels out of the Buckley’s drive and speeds like his life depends on it.

***

For the first time, Steve doesn’t answer when Eddie calls. Keith had hung up on him after confirming that Steve was off that day, and the Harrington house had just rang and rang before kicking him to the answering machine.

He doesn’t leave a message.

Is this the beginning of the end? First a few missed phone calls, and then pretty soon Eddie hasn’t seen Steve in three weeks. Ten years down the line they’ll pass each other in the grocery store and give those polite little head nods that people give when they used to know someone and don’t anymore.

He collapses onto the couch, pulling the blanket from its back to huddle into as his brain ticks away. It’s just—he knows there could be a million reasons Steve didn’t answer. Really, he does. But, this thing they have has always had an expiration date on it, and he can feel that thought curdling in his brain like rotten milk.

When someone knocks on the door, he doesn’t get up.

The knocks get quicker and louder, like whoever’s out there thinks he might not have heard them. Eddie should open the door before they bust it down, but he’s too busy being in his blanket cocoon, wallowing in his tragic, unrequited feelings.

When the door opens, he freezes.

Footsteps sound into the room, sounding loud against the carpet. Who just walks into someone else’s home when they don’t answer? A robber? But, no, they wouldn’t knock, would they?

“Eddie?”

He bolts up, peering over the back of the couch, blanket still around his shoulders. There, Steve Harrington stands, hair all fucked up like he’d been running his hands through it, eyes trained unerringly on Eddie where he sits, stupefied.

Steve’s wearing the same goddamn sweats as the first time he’d come over, with a cutoff Bowie shirt that has Buckley written all over it, cut short enough that Eddie can see his happy trail, and just the hint of his belly button.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, and it’s only as his voice scratches out of his throat that he realizes he must’ve been crying.

Steve must realize at the exact same time because he says, “have you been crying?” as he takes three quick strides to hover over Eddie, grabbing his cheeks in both hands and rubbing the tacky tear stains off his skin. Eddie averts his gaze, glancing down so he doesn’t have to look at Steve’s imploring face, but that puts him looking directly at his hairy stomach and that’s no better.

Even now, Eddie wants to lick it.

“No,” Eddie says, not looking up until Steve moves one of his hands to below Eddie’s chin and forces his face up.

“Why have you been crying?” Steve asks quietly.

Eddie swallows. It’s loud in the quiet of the living room, no background noise to mask the sound. “You didn’t answer,” he says, and it feels telling, somehow. Like Steve will hear the confession lurking beneath the words.

Steve sighs and sinks down to his knees, putting his face just below Eddie’s, the couch creating a barrier between them that aches like an open wound. “I was at Robin’s,” Steve says, still holding Eddie’s chin gently. “I lost track of time.”

There’s an apology lurking beneath the simple words, and suddenly, Eddie’s so fucking tired of the way they talk around each other, neither saying what they actually mean. “I thought maybe you were done with me,” Eddie says, voice rasping, unused to saying the honest truth.

“No,” Steve blurts, eyes wider than Eddie’s ever seen them. He crowds into Eddie’s space as much as he can with the couch in the way. “Never Eddie, I love you.”

While Eddie’s entire world shifts and rearranges with those words, he sees the exact moment Steve realizes what he just said. His face blanches, eyes widening even further, so much white showing on the edges of that beautiful brown until he sinks down on his heels, wrenching his hands free of Eddie so he can use them to cover his own face.

Eddie stares at him, words ringing in his head. I love you, I love you, I love you. Eddie’s never heard them before, not in this setting, from someone who isn’t Uncle Wayne. The feeling bursts through him, a supernova of light that has him leaning precariously over the back of the couch to yank Steve’s hands off of his face so he can stare into his wide, startled, beautiful eyes, as he asks, “do you really?”

Before Steve even has a chance to answer, Eddie’s leaned too far and toppled off of the couch, sending them both sprawling into the carpet. His elbow smacks into the ground and he doesn’t even care, too busy crawling onto Steve’s supine form and kissing anywhere he can reach. “Really, Stevie?” he asks between each press of lips. “Do you?”

“Yes?” Steve replies, sounding so unsure that Eddie can’t help what he does next.

For the first time, Eddie presses his lips into Steve’s and takes what he’s wanted all along: everything Steve will give him.

***

Steve’s head aches dully from where it smacked against the floor, but he doesn’t care. Eddie’s lips are soft against his. Steve lays on the Munson’s dirty carpet, unmoving with shock as Eddie presses gentle kiss after gentle kiss into Steve’s unresponsive lips. His eyes are open as he stares up at the shadows Eddie’s lashes create on his cheeks, elongated in the dim slanting light filtering across him from the floor ramp in the corner of the living room.

There’s a dreamy quality to Steve’s thoughts as they tumble around his brain—he’s already mourning the moment he wakes up.

It feels like dying when Eddie pulls back, eyes open now, and mouth frowning down at him. “Sorry, did I misread that?” he asks, squinting down at Steve. “It’s just, you said—and I thought—shit, I’m sorry!”

It’s as Eddie starts to get up, scrambling out of his lap like it’s radioactive, that Steve begins to realize that he’s in the Munson’s living room, awake and aflame with an aching want as the man he loves clambers off of him because Steve didn’t kiss him back.

He didn’t kiss him back.

“No!” Steve cries, too loud in the quiet of the room, arms reaching behind Eddie’s back and yanking him down. Eddie’s bony hips bite into his skin, but Steve doesn’t care. “No, you didn’t—just, what’s happening, man?”

Eddie stops trying to escape, palms big and sure against Steve’s chest as he props himself up, squinting down at Steve in blatant confusion. “Well, first you said you loved me,” Eddie replies, tapping one of his fingers against Steve’s sternum like he’s counting out the order of events for him. “I said it, too, and then you didn’t kiss me back, so I’m lost here… man.”

Eddie’s mouth twists wryly as he tacks on the last word, mockingly amused by Steve the way he always is. Steve notices the smile, he notices everything about Eddie, but his mind’s too caught on Eddie’s words to appreciate it.

“You didn’t,” Steve replies, something unrecognizable in his voice—wonder, maybe. Awe. Eddie’s got a little confused furrow between his brows, so Steve reaches out to smooth it out. “You love me?”

Eddie’s eyes blow wide, brows going up until his forehead’s all crinkled up. “I didn’t?” It’s a question, but Eddie’s already nodding before Steve gets a chance to answer, sharp enough to knock Steve’s hand off from between his eyes. Steve trails it down, settling fingertips lightly against Eddie’s cheekbone, thumb rubbing reverently against his jawline.

Eddie leans forward, fingers trailing up over his chest, over his neck, big hands cupping the expanse of both Steve’s cheeks as he leans down, close enough that all Steve can see is the dark brown expanses of Eddie’s eyes.

“Steve Harrington,” he says, voice solemn. Steve’s gaze flickers back and forth, trying to read every little thought that flits behind those beautiful eyes. “I love you.”

Steve sucks in a breath, and it lodges there, somewhere deep in his lungs. The silence hangs between them, charged with enough electricity to restart his heart.

“…man,” Eddie tacks on again, and Steve chokes on a laugh, breath rushing out of him as Eddie grins, every one of his teeth on display.

“You’re the fucking worst,” Steve whispers as he drags Eddie down, any reply he might have gotten trapped between their mouths.

It’s all teeth at first, Eddie laughing into the kiss until Steve sucks Eddie’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites down hard enough to make him gasp. Steve takes the invitation that’s given, swiping his tongue shallowly into Eddie’s panting mouth just to listen to him whine.

The sound activates something in Steve—something dark that just wants to take. Steve shoves at Eddie’s shoulder hard enough to knock him off Steve’s lap and onto his side on the carpet. He keeps shoving until Eddie’s on his back, pupils blown, hair in a fucked up halo around his head as he looks up at Steve reverently, as if he’s the one that’s divine.

He wastes no time crawling over Eddie’s body, pushing at his knees until his legs are spread wide, kept open by Steve’s weight settling between them.

Eddie, always easy, is already gasping and writhing beneath him, humping up against Steve erratically, desperately trying to get any pressure against the bulge in his jeans. Steve leans back far enough that he can press his forearm into Eddie’s hips, hard enough to still his movements.

Eddie whines, bucking against his hold. Steve waits, watching his needy face twist into something torturous as Eddie realizes that Steve’s not budging. His eyes are scrunched closed hard enough that stars must be bursting beneath his lids. Winded and petulant, finally, Eddie stills.

Steve doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, until Eddie opens his eyes, lashes wet as he looks up at Steve. He opens his mouth to speak, but clicks it back shut when Steve digs his fingernails gently into Eddie’s hip.

“The fucking worst,” Steve says again.

Eddie swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. Steve wants to tip Eddie’s chin up, bite against that spot, suck on it until Eddie begs him to stop.

But then Steve flicks his eyes back up at Eddie’s face, and he gets caught on his lips. His mouth’s slick with spit, bottom lip plumped from Steve sucking on it. When Eddie’s tongue darts out and wets them further, Steve’s lost.

He’s powerless to resist removing his hold from Eddie’s hips, letting their bodies slide back together so he can kiss Eddie’s wanting mouth. Eddie writhes against him again, hips rabbiting up. Steve wants to press him back into the carpet, keep his stupid fucking handcuff belt from clacking with his movements, but he can’t bring himself to stop kissing Eddie’s lips long enough to achieve it.

He settles for delving into Eddie’s mouth with his tongue, shoving it far enough back that Eddie chokes on it. He goes slack beneath him, mouth open wide, practically begging Steve to go deeper. He can feel Eddie’s erratic heartbeat from where his hand is cradling his neck, thumb pressed hard into his pulse point.

Only when he feels like he’s about to pass out does Steve leans back far enough to catch his breath. They’re both panting into each other’s open mouths. There’s a tremor running through Eddie’s entire body as he gazes up at Steve, eyes half mast.

“Steve,” he pleads, asking for something with just his eyes.

Steve rubs his neck, soothing him like a lame horse as he asks, “what do you need, baby?”

Eddie’s eyes shut, and he shudders as the term of endearment leaves Steve’s mouth. Steve keeps rubbing his skin, smoothing over acne scars and freckles alike as he waits for Eddie’s brain to come back online.

He opens his eyes, pupils blown all to shit as he looks up at Steve, still silent, still begging.

“What do you need?” Steve asks again.

Eddie swallows, cheeks darkening from a lustful pink to a painful-looking red as he finally, blessedly answers. “In my mouth?” he asks. When all Steve does is continue to rub his neck, he clarifies, blush traveling from the apples of his cheeks all the way to his ears. “Your dick in my—in my mouth.”

Steve leans down to kiss his cheek, the blood pooling beneath Eddie’s skin warm against his lips. “Anything you want,” Steve murmurs against his skin. “Thank you for telling me.”

Eddie shudders, dick twitching against Steve’s from the confines of his pants, but he doesn’t otherwise move as he waits to find out what Steve will do.

What he does is scramble back, too far gone to play it cool any longer as he shoves his sweatpants down just far enough that his painfully hard cock springs free. At the sight of Steve bared before him, Eddie bucks against him again, trying to knock him off. Steve sits down hard, settling his full weight on Eddie, pinning him to the carpet.

Eddie melts, stilling as he looks up at Steve like he’s something precious. It hits Steve straight in the sternum, that look—lust intertwined so inexorably with love that Steve can’t figure out where one ends and the other begins.

No one’s ever looked at him that way before.

Eddie waits beneath him, suddenly a font of patience as he waits for Steve to rise above the tide of emotion, cock still hard in the warm air of the Munson’s living room. The tide swallows him up—Steve lets it, nothing but love in his voice as he grabs his hard length, scoots up Eddie’s supine form, and nudges at his chin until his mouth drops open, warm breaths puffing against where he’s most sensitive.

“Open up,” Steve murmurs, hand moving from his chin, caressing up to his smooth cheek as he slides into Eddie’s warm, open heat.

***

Steve’s weight is pinning Eddie down into the carpet, hand firm enough against his face that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get more than the tip of Steve’s dick into his mouth. He’d lost all sense of time somewhere between Steve telling Eddie he loved him and sliding himself into Eddie, but it feels like hours have passed with Steve shallowly thrusting into his mouth.

Eddie sucks on the head, trying to get a little more, aching to be filled. He whines when Steve pulls back out, pace unhurried as his thighs flex against Eddie’s ribs, barely pressing himself back inside. Eddie moans, low enough in his throat that his tongue vibrates against the head of Steve’s dick. Steve jerks, thrusts in deeper with a grunt.

Steve’s cock’s deep enough that he’s choking on it, mind blank as he gasps for air. “Fuck, your mouth,” Steve mutters as he shifts back, almost pulling himself free entirely.

That’s the idea, Eddie tries to say, words coming out unintelligibly garbled around Steve’s length. The vibrations must feel good because Steve thrusts in again, harder this time, head barely breaching the back of his throat. Eddie whines, scrabbling unseeingly for Steve’s hips, trying to keep him there, so deep that Eddie’s lips are pressed against his pubes.

It doesn’t work, Eddie’s grip is too weak to stop Steve from pulling back as Eddie cries futilely on his cock. But this time, while Eddie sucks hard at the head of Steve’s dick, he thrusts in again, fast enough that it almost hurts.

He does it again. And again. And again, until Eddie’s hands go lax, lost to the sensations playing against his tongue. He swirls it around Steve’s shaft, memorizing the musky taste of his warm skin, senses overwhelmed as he loses all sense of reality.

Steve’s all-consuming, eating up Eddie’s remaining higher brain functions until he can only think in monosyllabic words like more, and fuck, and come. He’s harder than he’s been in his life, dick painfully pressed into the confines of his still-buttoned jeans as he humps up into the air, desperate.

Steve shifts his hand from Eddie’s cheek and into his hair, gripping his tangled tresses to yank his head up, craning his neck uncomfortably as he pushes himself impossibly deeper. Eddie gags, jaw straining around the girth of Steve’s cock, light headed from oxygen deprivation.

Steve pulls out, letting go of the hold on his hair suddenly enough that Eddie’s head thunks into the carpet, eyes staring unseeingly up at the ceiling until Steve’s own worried face blocks it out.

“You okay?” he asks, hands brushing gently against his cheeks, trailing over his neck and down beneath the collar of his shirt like he’s looking for wounds.

“Why’d you stop?” Eddie asks, the sound of his own gravely voice sending another wave of lust through him that has his hips twitching, neck straining to get Steve back in his mouth. “Please, please, please.”

“You’re crying, baby,” Steve whispers, hands still too soft against him.

Eddie blinks, only then noticing the burn of his eyes, the way his eyelashes are clumping together. “Want it,” Eddie begs, voice fucked. “Please.”

Steve stares at him for another endless second, unblinking. Eddie watches something unfathomable shift behind Steve’s eyes, understanding dawning into something darker, as Steve scrambles back just enough that he can lick the tacky tears off of Eddie’s cheeks and out of his lashes once Eddie closes his eyes.

Then Steve’s tongue is back in Eddie’s mouth, wetter than before like Steve had let saliva pool in the back of his throat before feeding it to him. His tongue fucks into his mouth, licking so far into him that he must be able to taste his own precome at the back of Eddie’s throat. Steve doesn’t stop when Eddie chokes. Eddie wants more.

As if hearing his thoughts, Steve pulls back, ignoring Eddie’s bereft whining as he straddles his ribs again, sure fingers gathering up Eddie’s hair tenderly at the back of his skull before clenching his fist, pulling against the hair follicles hard enough that Eddie’s eyes start watering.

Steve doesn’t hesitate this time as he fucks into Eddie’s mouth, yanking Eddie’s face up and down in time with his thrusts, using him for his own satisfaction.

He’s never been more turned on in his life.

His own hips are twitching, desperate for anything as Steve thrusts again, and again, and again, forcing Eddie to take what he’s given.

As Steve’s thrusts grow sloppy, he lowers Eddie’s head to the carpet, letting go of his hair entirely to grind himself against Eddie’s face. He’s deeper than he’s ever been, the entire head of his cock in Eddie’s throat, devolving into a dirty grind, barely thrusting like he can’t bear to part from the warm clutch of Eddie’s body even for a second.

Eddie’s so lightheaded that spots are bursting behind his eyes, and his throats convulsing as he gags against the intrusion.

It’s loud in the quiet of the living room, the dirty wet sound of Steve’s cock pushing itself into Eddie’s throat, forcing him to take all that he has to give until he’s gagging, that sound somehow just as wet, just as lewd. Eddie can’t hear anything else, ears muffled by the press of Steve’s thighs against his ears.

His brain’s gone numb, oxygen deprived and fucked stupid as Steve, takes, and takes, and takes until Eddie’s crying with it.

Steve doesn’t stop—Eddie doesn’t want him to. He’s hardly been touched, and yet he damn-near feels like he might come just from the musty taste on his tongue.

He wants to die with Steve Harrington’s cock down his throat.

But when Steve’s dick starts twitching, he pulls it out, ignoring Eddie’s begging as he strips it, tip close enough to Eddie’s mouth that he can almost taste it. He opens his mouth, ravenous for anything Steve will give him.

“Please,” Eddie asks, and like that’s all he’d been waiting for, Steve’s cock pulses and spills, creamy white liquid painting itself all over Eddie’s face.

He milks himself through it, waiting until every drop has been spilled before he lets go of his spent cock and uses his fingers to spread the mess around Eddie’s face, scooping up come and tears alike and feeding them into Eddie’s panting, open mouth.

Eddie closes his mouth around the intrusion and sucks.

“What do you need?”

***

Eddie’s sucking on his fingers, eyes closed, tongue sliding sensually between them like he can’t bear to miss a drop of the come Steve had fed into his mouth. Steve’s soft cock gives a valiant twitch where it’s drooping between his legs. If he hadn’t just come harder than he had in his entire life, this would be enough to send him over the edge.

“Eddie,” Steve says, pulling his fingers free and using both hands to grab Eddie’s sticky cheeks, waiting until his hazy eyes open to ask again, “what do you need?”

Eddie’s twitching beneath him, hips rolling like all he wants is to fuck something, but when he finally speaks, he says, “fuck me,” with enough need that it comes out as a command.

Steve’s dick twitches again before slumping pitifully back into itself.

“I just came,” Steve says, feeling orgasm dumb and almost as desperate as Eddie. Eddie closes his eyes again, sniffs like he’s going to fucking cry, he’s so horny. Steve pets at his cheek, suddenly desperate to give him anything he wants.

Steve tucks himself back into his sweats, sliding off Eddie, entire body shaky as he kneels between his raised knees, hands trembling against the handcuff clasp of his belt. The handcuffs clacking against each other is loud as it echoes through the room. “This fucking belt,” Steve mutters, fingers fumbling to get it open. “So fucking loud over the phone, Eddie, you have no fucking idea.”

Eddie groans, hips twitching, making undoing said belt even harder, but when Steve’s gaze snaps up, Eddie’s mouth is hanging open, lips still covered in Steve’s own spend. He stares, gobsmacked by the sight of him once more—the mess he’s made of him. But, when Eddie’s hips twitch again, Steve trails his gaze back down, flicking his wrist just right to unclasp the stupid belt.

“Do you know how fucking crazy it made me,” Steve demands, belt clacking loudly as he shoves it out of the way, fingers shaking against the button of his jeans.

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie replies, voice gravelly and wrecked. Steve wants to pour honey down his throat, soothe the ache before fucking that rasp right back into his mouth all over again. “Those fucking sweatpants, Harrington?”

Steve looks down at his own sweatpants, perplexed. They’re stained with grease on one of his hips, and loose enough to be unflattering. “What—”

“You look so soft,” Eddie cuts in, “want to slide my hand into your pants while you make fucking breakfast.”

The image hits Steve in the chest—him at the stove, Eddie behind him, chin hooked over his shoulder peering into the pan as he slips his hand beneath the waistband of Steve’s sweats, stroking him as he scrambles their eggs.

“Fuck,” Steve says, desperate as he flicks the button on Eddie’s jeans open, yanking them and Eddie’s underwear down together.

Eddie’s dick’s harder than Steve’s ever seen it, tip purple and already leaking like just Steve looking at it is almost enough to send him over the edge. It looks damn-near painful, pointing directly up at the ceiling, waiting for Steve to touch it.

“That’s the idea,” Eddie replies, grinning when Steve looks back up at his face.

It takes a second for Steve to place that as an answer to his expletive, and when he does, he bends down, licking one long stripe up Eddie’s cock just to hear him cry before hooking his arms under Eddie’s knees and shoving them up, practically bending Eddie in half as he makes himself at home between Eddie’s legs.

“What are you—” Steve licks over Eddie’s hole, making Eddie’s question trail off into a startled moan.

When no further questions come his way, Steve adjusts, letting go of Eddie’s legs so they settle over his shoulders, and licks at him again, this time with more purpose, wriggling his way inside the tight heat of Eddie’s body as he twitches.

“Holy shit.”

Steve hums in reply, gratified when the vibration makes Eddie’s entire body jolt like he’s been electrocuted. He does it again, worming his tongue in deeper, the fit tight enough to almost hurt.

He pulls back. “No, no, please,” Eddie begs, voice going quiet and breathing turning erratic as Steve spits on his hole once, twice, three times, thumbs pulling him open enough that the saliva sinks into him. “Shit.”

Steve licks into him again, drawing back just far enough to suck at his rim hard until Eddie shouts. Eddie contracts then loosens, Steve sinking his tongue into him, deeper this time. Eddie’s squirming like he’s not sure whether he wants to move closer or twitch away in overstimulation. Steve doesn’t give him a choice, uses one arm to hold against Eddie’s bent thighs, pressing him into the carpet to keep him still.

His other hand finds its way between them, pointer finger pushing into Eddie’s hole, skin tugging against skin until Steve spits into him and sinks it in smoothly past the first knuckle. Eddie shouts again, entire body vibrating as Steve fucks into him with his finger, torturously slow.

“Good?” Steve asks, finger never stopping its movement as he leans back to survey his spoils. Eddie’s dicks even harder now, and he’s writhing, head shaking back and forth, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open as he pants for breath. “Eddie?”

When he still doesn’t answer, Steve stills his finger where it’s still stuffed inside Eddie’s body, watching as his whole face crumples in on itself. “Eddie,” Steve says again, voice commanding enough that Eddie opens his eyes, tears clinging to his lashes as he peers down at Steve between his legs, gaze hazy and unfocused. “Still good?”

Eddie nods hard enough that his neck cracks. “Don’t stop,” he begs.

Steve doesn’t have to be told twice. He moves his finger again, thrusting with more force as he leans back down, licking around the intrusion with enough pressure that his tongue sinks in right alongside it.

He adds his middle finger, licking between them as he pushes them in deep and then curls them, finding the spot inside Eddie’s body that makes him beg to stop, beg for more, cry for anything.

Eddie’s been hard since before he got Steve’s cock in his mouth, long before Steve had begun finger fucking him in earnest, so he’s not surprised when it only takes a few more thrusts at that spot inside him for Eddie to smack his shoulder hard in warning.

“Steve, Steve, I’m gonna—”

Steve fucks in his fingers harder, hand cramping as he pounds into Eddie’s body even as he clenches around him, mouth suctioning at the side of his rim as he fucks Eddie through it. He keeps it up as Eddie’s legs settle more firmly against Steve, hand dropping bonelessly to the carpet, body going pliant around Steve’s breaching fingers.

Steve leans back, gently removing his fingers and easing Eddie’s boneless legs to the floor. When Steve finally catches sight of his cock, he groans at the sight of the mess Eddie’s made. It’s in his pubes, on his shirt, pooling on his own fucking neck.

He lays over Eddie’s lax body, uncaring of the mess he’s making of his own clothes as he scoops some of the come from Eddie’s neck and slips it into Eddie’s open mouth, waiting for him to suck it clean from his fingers before pulling it free.

He presses his lips to Eddie’s, absurdly gentle for the debauchery now covering Eddie. Steve doesn’t care, so full of love he’s fit to burst. Eddie kisses him back, just as soft, opening up for Steve like a sunflower toward the light.

Steve keeps kissing him, never wants to stop even as his lungs constrict with the need to breathe. When he finally is forced to pull back for air, he keeps his forehead pressed to Eddie’s breathing in the same air that Eddie’s panting out.

They stay like that for a long time.

Eddie’s pliant when Steve finally pulls him up off the floor, and ushers him into the bathroom. He’s quiet when Steve strips him down, pushing him into the shower to clean them both up with soft hands, Eddie half-asleep against his shoulder.

Steve dries him off and brushes his hair while he’s seated on the toilet seat, eyes closed. Eddie leans into each touch like a cat being stroked, soft even in the fluorescent lights of the Munson’s small bathroom.

“C’mon, baby,” Steve murmurs, pulling him to standing and wrapping a towel around him before leading him through the dark trailer and into his own bedroom.

He digs through Eddie’s discarded clothes until he finds them both clean boxers to change into. Steve ignores Eddie’s little questioning hum as he leaves the bedroom to fetch a glass of water, coming back as quickly as he can.

Eddie’s still standing where he left him, at the foot of the bed, eyes trained on the door. But, when Steve hands him the water, he drinks, wincing as the cold water hits his throat. It must hurt, but he drinks it down.

Steve takes the empty cup back, leaving it on the desk to tuck them both into Eddie’s cold bed, warming his sheets up with their combined body heat.

Steve doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s dark, and there’s sleep pulling at him, made more appealing by the warmth of Eddie’s body beneath his hands, heads sharing the same pillow.

“Did you mean it?” Steve whispers, can’t help it with Eddie warm and pliant beside him. “You weren’t just horny?”

Eddie’s eyes are soft in the light filtering in from the window, mouth quirked in amusement as he replies, “I’m always horny.” His hands are gentle as he caresses Steve’s eyebrow, cheekbone, jaw. “But I meant it.” Steve waits, breathless and hopeful for Eddie to say it again.

“I love you.”

Steve tucks his face into Eddie’s neck, kissing the skin he finds there. “Love you, too.”

Eddie’s arms wrap around him, pulling him impossibly closer, hidden away in the safe haven of Eddie’s bedroom, swaddled in worn-soft sheets.

***

For once, Steve’s still in bed when Eddie wakes up. His arm’s slung around Eddie’s waist, a warm brand pushing him into the mattress, and their legs are tangled between them, knees pressed against one another. It’s warm, cozy where the trailer’s usually chilly on a winter morning.

Steve’s head is on the same pillow as Eddie’s, close enough that he can count every one of his eyelashes, breath puffing gently against Eddie’s cheek. He stares at him bathed in the morning light filtering in through his closed curtains, breathless.

He wants to reach out, touch him softly. It takes him a minute to remember that he can.

Steve groans when Eddie’s hand cups his cheek, a small disgruntled sound as he scrunches up his nose in his sleep. Eddie soothes at his jaw with his thumb, enamored. It takes a few brushes against his skin for Steve’s eyes to blink open, still hazy, barely awake.

When he catches sight of Eddie, he smiles like it’s a reflex, small and sleepy. Eddie leans forward, breaching the scant inches separating them to press his lips to Steve’s gently, mouth open and wet. Steve hums and kisses back, lips just as soft.

It takes a few long moments for Eddie to get his fill and lean back, heart constricting in his chest with the breadth of his feelings when he catches sight of the little smile still on Steve’s face.

“Your mouth tastes like ass,” he says, still smiling all soft and warm even as Eddie sputters.

“Your mouth tastes like ass,” Eddie retorts, jabbing him in the chest when all he does is laugh, voice still sleep-rough. “After all, it wasn’t me who…”

When he trails off, Steve’s grin sharpens, grows fangs as he leans closer to Eddie, their noses brushing as he continues where Eddie left off. “Had a tongue up someone’s asshole.”

He moves reflexively, shoving Steve hard enough to send him tumbling off the edge of the bed, disappearing from sight. He stares at the now-vacant spot beside him for a long moment before scrambling forward on the mattress, peering over the edge. Steve’s splayed out on the carpet, half in a pile of Eddie’s dirty laundry, eyes wide as he stares up at Eddie.

“Shit, sorry, I panicked!” Eddie cries, reaching down toward Steve’s prone body to help him up.

Steve’s fingers wrap around his wrist and he yanks, sending Eddie tumbling off the bed right after him, landing half on top of him as he cackles.

“What the fuck?” Eddie asks, but Steve’s got his arms wrapped around him again, pulling him into his bare chest, and it’s hard to maintain any level of disgruntlement with all that bodily contact.

“Sorry, baby,” he soothes, fingers brushing through Eddie’s hair until he melts into him fully, letting his head settle in the crook of Steve’s neck. “Just wanted you close to me.”

Eddie huffs, but kisses the warm skin beneath his lips. “Smooth talker,” he mutters like it’s a complaint, and not the main reason they’d even gotten this far. If it wasn’t for Steve and his smooth fucking words, Eddie would’ve never moved past cheesy pick-up lines and desperately frequent phone calls.

Before Eddie can think of something suitably clever to say, there’s a knock on Eddie’s closed bedroom door, and Wayne calls, “boys, breakfast.”

“Coming!” Eddie calls back, even as Steve goes stiff and unyielding beneath him. He plants his hands on Steve’s pectorals, levering himself up enough to peer down into Steve’s spooked face. “You okay?”

Steve swallows, throat clicking dryly as he nods unconvincingly. Eddie stares him down, waiting for the truth to spill out of his stupid, perfect lips. “What if he doesn’t like me?” Steve blurts, face immediately pinking as Eddie stares down at him, gobsmacked.

“Wayne?” Eddie demands, sitting up so he can get a better look at Steve’s expression, knees bracketing his hips. “He loves you.”

“But that was before,” Steve replies, leaning up on his bent elbows, forearms straining beneath his weight as he tilts closer to Eddie, whispering like he’s afraid Wayne’s got his ear pressed up against the door. “Before we started dating.”

Eddie can’t help the way he grins when that word leaves Steve’s mouth. It’s just—love is one thing, but dating? Dating implies things that Eddie’s been trying desperately not to want. It’s dinner together, and holding hands covertly at the movies, and parking up at the quarry to look at the stars.

There are actions involved in dating, a future laid out before him if only he’s brave enough to grasp it. Eddie bends his neck down, pressing one quick kiss to Steve’s cheek, afraid that if he goes for the lips, they won’t emerge from this room until breakfast has long since gone cold.

Steve stays on the ground as Eddie jumps up, invigorated, and begins rifling through his drawers for suitable clothing. He pulls on his own change of clothes first, taking the time to pull on jeans and his belt now that he knows it drives Steve crazy.

“Hate to break it to you, Stevie,” Eddie says, throwing a clean shirt toward him with enough accuracy that it blankets his face entirely, “but Wayne definitely already thought we were dating.”

He throws a pair of sweats at him too and saunters out of the room, closing the door on the sound of Steve’s sputtering.

He hits the head, and by the time he leaves the bathroom, Steve’s already sitting at the table, looking sleep-rumpled and warm as he talks with Wayne.

“—stay here much more, and I’ll have half a mind to charge ya rent,” Wayne’s saying as Eddie slides into his seat at the table.

Steve’s smiling as he reaches out, linking his fingers with Eddie’s beneath the table before settling it on the top, for all the world to see. “I can live with that,” he says, squeezing Eddie’s hand, eyes twinkling blindingly at him.

Eddie blushes, and looks down at his plate, already piled with fluffy pancakes. He eats with his left hand, still clutching Steve’s with his right, getting syrup all over in his hair, but it’s worth it for the way Steve’s thumb keeps rubbing against his own.

Wayne doesn't comment, but Eddie catches him eyeing their hands, something parental and pleased in the way he asks Steve about who he’s rooting for in the latest sportsball tournament.

He never lets go of Eddie’s hand.

The phone doesn’t ring until they’re standing side by side at the sink, Eddie washing as Steve dries, the water running cold thanks to Wayne’s morning shower. He hands the plate he’s working on over to Steve and grabs the receiver with soapy hands.

“Yello,” Eddie says, looking over at Steve just to watch him roll his eyes.

“He better be with you,” Robin’s stern voice crackles down the line. “Because no one’s answering at his house, and if he went off to die in the woods or something because you broke his heart—”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Eddie interrupts, unsurprised when Robin talks right over him.

“—I’ll never forgive you, Eddie Munson.”

He waits just long enough to make sure she’s done berating him before turning to Steve, “it’s for you, dear.”

Steve sets the plate he was drying on the rack, and takes the phone from Eddie’s hands.

“Robin?” he asks, somehow so in-tune with his long lost younger twin that he knows it's her even before she’s spoken. Eddie loves them both so fucking much.

As he goes to finish the dishes alone, he keeps an ear open to Steve’s side of the conversation.

“Sorry, Bobby, I got distracted.” Eddie grins, movements slow as he washes the soap off a mug, unwilling to miss any of the conversation that he can catch. “Yeah, yeah, you were right,” Steve says, sounding exasperated before he drops his voice even lower. But, Steve’s always been a shit whisperer, and Eddie still hears it. “He does like me.”

Eddie grins as he dries the last mug before turning around, bracing his back against the counter as he watches Steve speak to his best friend. He looks soft in Eddie’s borrowed sweatpants, hair going every which way after he’d gone to sleep with it still wet last night.

Eddie wants to keep him forever. And, as Steve hangs up the phone and pushes into Eddie’s space like he belongs there, it hits him suddenly that he might get to. Maybe, if Eddie’s really lucky, Steve might even want him to.

“I’ve gotta head to work soon,” Steve murmurs, crowding Eddie into the cupboard and pressing their lips together gently. “But, I’ll see you later?”

For the first time since this whole thing started, he sounds nervous. Hopeful, like there’s any chance at all of Eddie declining. “Whenever you want,” Eddie replies, cupping his face and staring into his eyes. “Any time, any place, I’m yours, baby.”

Steve beams, happy and in love, as he leans forward to press one final kiss against Eddie’s lips, and then he’s gone.

He buzzes for the rest of the day, always on the cusp of rushing out the door to surprise Steve during his shift. But, if calling too soon after the first date is taboo, turning up at their place of work is even worse. What’s the protocol if you’ve been having sex for months and only just put a label on it?

Their usual call system has presumably gone to shit. Steve hadn’t mentioned it, and Eddie was too nervous to ask. They’re dating now, all the previous rules of their relationship overwritten, no matter how he’ll miss Steve every night at eight p.m., the association baked straight into his DNA.

But, Steve hadn’t asked him to call, and Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, so he sits, and he stews, and he waits to hear from Steve, hoping “later” actually translates to “soon.”

Eddie already misses him.

Still, he’s hovering by the phone as the hour hand on the clock creeks closer and closer to eight. He’s not going to call. He won’t. But just as the hand ticks over, the phone rings.

Eddie rushes to answer, fingers fumbling enough that he drops the receiver and has to dive for it, cracking his knees on the ground. He barely notices the pain as he presses the phone to the side of his face, buzzing with a sickening mix of desperation and excitement.

“Hello?” he says, embarrassingly breathless as he waits for something besides static to crackle down the line.

“What are you wearing?” Steve asks, voice suggestive and sly.

Eddie grins.

And, that's it! I hope you all enjoyed it! As always, thanks to @queenie-ofthe-void for their wonderful beta editing, and also for encouraging me in getting out of my comfort zone with this one. I couldn't do it without you <3<3<3

#SteddieWinterExchange #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #my fic

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atlas-of-the-mind · 16 hours ago

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Hi I'm back I wrote a dribble specifically for this bc I couldn't stop thinking about it /pos

You did this to me

MC's Journal, Christmas 2XXX

1.2k+, soft + silly

"Let's make gingerbread houses!"

Sun's hands clap lightly onto my shoulders as I hunch over my work table, the sudden noise and contact about making my soul leave my body.

I yelp, startling so bad my knees hit the underside of the desk.

I'm quick to turn in my chair to face the former attendant, bracing a hand against my chest. "Gods, Sun, you scared me."

"Sorry, sorry!" They lean down to look me over, "I didn't mean to startle you, I was just. Excited. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I wave his gentle hands away as kindly as I can manage, "What was your idea?"

"Oh. Oh!" Sun's worried expression shifts back to that excited smile, "I suggested we make gingerbread houses!"

"Gingerbread houses." I raise an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Sun nods enthusiastically, making their rays rattle. "I was brushing up on Christmas traditions -- 'tis the season, and all -- and I thought making gingerbread houses would be fun!"

"Is this going to be like the cookies a couple weeks ago?" I grimace slightly as I remember the mess. It took ages to get Moon clean.

The attendant chuckles quietly, "Uh, n-no, no I don't think so. C'mon, you could use some festive fun."

"Do I now?"

He grabs my hands, being gentle about tugging me up out of my chair. "Yes, you do. Come on, it'll be fun!"

"No offense, but sometimes you have a very interesting definition of 'fun'." I scoff, but allow myself to be guided to my feet and toward the stairs. "Though I know for a fact I don't have any gingerbread house ingredients on hand."

"Not to worry, I went and got some kits while you were at work." Sun widens their grin.

"Of course you did." I laugh softly.

Sun winks at me as she drags me upstairs, leading me over to the kitchen table.

"Ta-da~!" They sweep a hand to gesture to the sweets that currently cover the table. It's quite the spread; candycanes and peppermint bark and gum drops, various types of sprinkles, and several piping bags full of what looks like homemade frosting, all neatly organized around two stacks of dark brown gingerbread squares.

I note the fancy-looking red and gold table runner that I didn't previously own as well, but I'll let that slide for now.

"Damn. Fancy." I whistle softly. "You really went all out."

"Of course! Christmas traditions deserve care and attention." Sun wags a finger at me.

I try not to laugh. I condense it down into a sort of snort-cough. "If you say so. Where's Moon? He should get to have some ~festive fun~ too."

Sun's smile pulls taut into a grimace at that, "...Right. He's still asleep, I think, but we can get started without him. It's still light out, after all."

"No, household activities means the whole house, remember?" I tut at them, "You stay there, I'm gonna go get Moon."

Sun groans quietly. "Fine... but any mess he makes is not my fault!"

I chuckle, quickly limping my way upstairs and into the bedroom to find the sleeping bot.

Moon's taking up the whole bed as usual as he charges, but lifts his head when he hears the door creak open.

He clacks his teeth in a groggy greeting.

"Hey, buddy. We're doing an activity, you wanna come down?" I lower my voice slightly as I approach the bed.

My words earn a groan from the large bot in response.

[SUN?] Even his Morse sounds sleepy.

"Yes, it's Sun's idea." I nod, "We're making gingerbread houses."

[...WHAT.]

"Uhhh, like small houses made of cookies."

At that he seems to perk up a bit. [COOKIES?]

"Yeah, there's cookies and frosting and everything." I am certain I'm going to regret this decision later, but house rules must be followed if the boys are gonna get along.

Moon clacks his teeth again with muted excitement, slowly lumbering to get up off the bed and unplug the cable from his back. His eye-lights flicker on to look at me after he shakes himself fully awake.

"Great. Let's go." I turn and lead the way back downstairs. The large bot is hot on my heels, his cables creaking as he navigates the relatively small stairway.

Sun is busy reorganizing things and tidying the various crafting supplies when we return, spinning to greet us with open arms. "Oh good! You came back." He eyes the large bot behind me with a forced grin. "And Moon wanted to come too, I see."

"Yup. You two could use some bonding time." I step over to take a seat at the table, in front of one of the stacks of ginger bread.

"Trust me we have plenty of bonding time as is." Sun mutters through gritted teeth before taking a breath and sitting in front of the other pile of gingerbread. "So, what I was thinking, is that you can do one, and I'll do the other, and then we can show them off to each other when they're done."

Moon leans down over my shoulder, eyeing the cookies. [EAT?]

"No, you have to build it before you can eat it." Sun corrects him before I can speak, holding up a finger. "I looked through the instructions, and they were very clear about that."

"They were, huh?" I try to hide a grin. "Interesting."

"Very!" Sun chooses to ignore the tone of my remark, "Now, since we have 3 people and only 2 houses, we'll have to make teams." They pretend to think about it for a human amount of time, "I think M and I should be a team, and Moon can build his own. Sound fair?"

"That's just mean, leaving Moon on his own." I feign betrayal, "How about Moon be on your team, hm?"

"Absolutely not! I have a very particular vision in mind and I will not have him ruining it." Sun huffs and crosses his arms.

[SHOW OFF.] Moon remarks.

"Both of you, be nice." I sigh, "Okay, how about Moon be on my team, then? That way everyone can be involved."

Sun scowls, but looks away when I meet their gaze. "....Fine."

"Thank you." I look up at Moon, "How about it, buddy? Wanna build a candy house with me?"

Moon clacks his teeth excitedly. [FUN.]

"See? Moon thinks this will be fun too." I glance back at the now-moody attendant as they reach for their pieces.

"Let's just get started, hm?" Sun grins at me.

"Bet we can beat ya." I joke as I reach for my kit of cookies.

"Ha! I am an undefeated craft Master, thank you very much!" Sun laughs. "I'd like to see you try and beat me!"

"That's what you think. I'm an engineer, I know how to build shit too." I challenge. "Our house will be better by a mile!"

The pile of hardened frosting and smashed cookies Moon and I ended up with was in fact, not better by even an inch, when compared to Sun's perfectly crafted masterpiece of a gingerbread house. When I posted both to Tumblr (claiming I had friends over, which wasn't technically a lie) Sun's won near unanimously.

I still think my "destroyed house in a candy cane forest" angle should've garnered us some points, but it was nice to see Sun proud of themselves for once.

This was fun. I think I might start up a new Christmas tradition.

~ MC. 12/25/XX

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @atlas-of-the-mind

I’m so late I should just say happy new years, thank you so much for your patience 🫶 but yes I was your secret santa!!

I had so much fun drawing your sun and moon, The Light Room is such an interesting au!!!! Was going to draw something creepy for them, but then I thought they all deserved a break for the holidays <3

Some fun stuff! I tried to include your Sun’s markings on the table runner and his gingerbread house! Also almost gave him a red sweater, but him in a Christmas tree one was so funny to me I kept it in (bc he’s the star <3)

#genuinely thank you spike bc i have not been able to smash out writing like this in FOREVER #and it was so much fun #like the hapy newr yeas drabble i wrote.... i should post that sometime #they r everything to me ty again for drawing them <33 #tlr au #the light room #drabble #my writing

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etrevil · 1 year ago

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wdym they're gonna say goodbye with red mood lighting??? WHY BONES 😭?????

#i am in fucking shambles #i am in denial #can you hear the sound of my soul leaving my body?#this two ruin me #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd anime #bsd season 5 #bsd season five #bungou stray dogs season five #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #bsd dazai #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #soukoku #bsd soukoku #it's soukover #bsd chapter 101

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ozzgin · 1 month ago

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It is the 19th century and you are returning home by ship. Before you embark, you happen to find a glowing shell abandoned by the docks. It seems that the sea creatures are searching for it. Or maybe it's something else they're interested in. content: gender neutral reader, violence, dubious consent, based on Return of the Obra Dinn

January 1802 What's the matter with me, I wonder? As if my luggage wasn't heavy enough already, I had to drag around a big shell of sorts. Found it by the docks while I waited for my ship to arrive. It has a strange glow to it, this shell. Can't quite place it.

January 1802 Cheeky bastards! The seamen are such a flirt. From the moment I stepped onto the main deck, a handful of them haven't dropped the whistles and stares. One of the topmen - I recall he's Scottish? - he's been pestering me about the ship. "I'll show ye around, can't find a better guide," he says. His mates laugh and clap to his petty attempts.

February 1802 Some of the sailors are dying from lung illness. I was on the orlop deck, playing cards with the three Russians, when the surgeon rushed to one of the cabins ahead. "If it was contagious, we'd all have it by now. Damned if I know what it is, or where it comes from," I could hear him groan. I wondered out loud if I might catch it myself, but then I noticed one of 'em rascals trying to cheat the cards. February 1802 I saw it again tonight. Ever since we launched from Falmouth, as soon as the sun sets, there's an eerie glimmer in the distance. It reminds me of this damned shell. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Oh, the sea is so terrifying in the dark. There's nothing but black stretching all around. My window is low; whenever the waves break against it, the wooden walls let out a groan that awakens me from the deepest slumber. Surgeon gave me pills to sleep. The creaks of the ship sound like a weeping maiden. February 1802 I think the cursed glow is getting closer. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I snuck onto the main deck. Scotsman found me wandering towards the bow, so he quietly hoisted me up by the waist. I thought he'd tell the Captain, but he sat me on the lower rigging, next to him, and we listened to the waves. I was afraid I'd fall off, but he kept a steady hand on me. I wish I could tell him about the light stalking our ship. Would he think I'm mad?

February 1802 Second Mate returned today on a small boat. We heard shouts coming from upstairs, so we rushed to see what was happening. Bosun had his pistol readied next to the Captain, and the sailors lifted the cargo from below. I thought I was dreaming at first. Some creatures, unholy beings, were caught in the net. They had the body of a human, but thick, fish tails covered in spikes. One of the Formosan passengers muttered something in Chinese, and some of the tail spikes suddenly pierced him dead. The old Miss next to me fainted on the spot, and the stewards urged us to leave. Right before I turned, I noticed one of the beasts pointing at me. It had a monstrous grin on its face. Oh, what a sight! The Scotsman guided me away, but I can't forget those eyes. Was it malice? Such an intense stare, burning straight into my soul. Now that I'm writing all this, a memory has come to mind: the creature had the same shell as mine, dangling from its neck.

February 1802 The pills no longer work. I can't rest anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I hear its wretched voice, calling me from the lazarette. That's where they locked those sea monsters. It sings nonsense, blasphemous lies. We're not fated soulmates. I've nothing to do with those devils. I should've never picked up the shell. I can only pray we reach land soon.

March 1802 God, oh God, what disaster has befallen us? I don't have much time. The gun deck is in shambles, more than half the crew dead. Underwater beasts have crawled their way up our ship; strange humans with spears, saddled on top of crabs larger than I've ever seen. The poor midshipman, oh, a young boy! He set himself on fire to stop the nightmarish fiend. Threw the lamp across the floor, and the flames swallowed both of them up. I scrambled up on the main deck, but there was no peace to be found; colossal tentacles sprawled around the ship, pulling the rigging apart, tearing humans like insects. The Captain's wife was struck by a falling pillar, I saw her crumble right before me. Scotsman is still alive, but his arm is missing a good chunk of it. I don't know where to find the surgeon.

March 1803 They left. They took the last boat, I only found out this morning. I tried to join them, but one of the sailors stopped me. "Witch," he shouted at me, "the beast down by the cargo hold screams your name. You must've called it here, brought this curse upon us." I don't know what he's talking about. Tonight I'm going to the lazarette, I can no longer bear the calling. This blasted fiend, oh, he's ruined me. I'll rot on this wreck. Mother, I don't think I'll ever reach the shore.

Your steps are hesitant as you tiptoe your way around the dried blood and debris, until you reach the locked chambers. The door is bent and folded away, as if hit by a great force. You do indeed notice the round prints against the rusty surface: giant suckers from a blasphemous being.

There he is, the wicked varmint who plagues your sleep! A pale creature is propped up, halfway out of the water, welcoming you with a toothy grin. The shell around his neck glows mockingly.

You throw your own shell at him. The small, ivory object rolls with a hollow thud.

"Is this what you wanted, damned monster?"

"Why, what am I to do with two?"

His voice is harsh and deep, rapping against your eardrums, scratching the inside of your head.

"I've been waiting for you. Can't leave this place without my beloved, can I?"

"There you go again with this nonsense. Villain! Drown me if you must, but spare me your deceit."

His smile falters, eyes narrowing in a frown.

"Is that how you find my love? Some petty lie told by a charlatan? Ungrateful brat, who do you think freed you from their shackles? Who do you suspect has summoned the leviathan, from the deepest trenches of the sea, to save your mortal soul?"

"The kraken left with the storm," you counter as the blood drains from your face. Could it be that you were to blame, after all?

"No, it left after the bargain."

He pulls himself up and sits on the edge of his former cage. You observe his features in mild awe: the texture of his skin, the dark locks of hair reaching all the way to the tail, the spikes breaking out of the thick, hard scales.

"What bargain," you ask fearfully.

"The last ones are free to escape, if they leave you to me."

Why, your horrified expression is not quite something he expected. Surely one must feel relief once their freedom has been guaranteed. And not just any kind of freedom - you've been returned to your soulmate.

He's spent weeks chasing the currents, trailing the faint glow in the distance. He hasn't stopped once, tail pushing forward to the promise of a reunion.

Yet, you seem unsure. Perhaps his approach has been too hurried, too nonchalant. You need a little bit of convincing, and he happens to be a master of courting.

His thorax suddenly expands, and you can almost hear the twisting sound of his ribs cracking and breaking under the pressure. A sweet voice rolls out of his mouth, a song you've never heard before. Your heart pounds tremendously, threatening to burst out of your chest, and a foreign panic floods your senses.

Despite your desire to flee, your lids are heavy, eyes slowly closing. Through your lashes, you can discern the beast crawling towards you, the same defiant grin plastered on his face.

It's time for you to come home.

#mermaid x reader #merman x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #terato #teratophillia #monster fic #monster imagine #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere monster

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catcze · 3 days ago

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SEMI-NSFW!! 16+ ONLY !! — Sylus. gn reader, no body parts mentioned. Fade to black right before you fuck so nothing explicit, but heavily implied. Lovesick Sylus ♡

Yes, Sylus finds enjoyment in branding your skin with his teeth, leaving marks for all to admire for the coming days. He’s a man in love— sue him. But when you’re the one marking him up, clinging to him with your face buried in his neck and your teeth in his skin, painting another pretty bruise there for everyone to see, Sylus’ breath catches and his heart races. Knowing that you’re marking him— that you’re staking a claim on him. That you’re declaring him yours. Your man, your beloved, your dragon.

A helpless groan rises from his chest, guttural and rough. One of his arms wraps around you, keeping you pressed close. It’s almost like he’s begging you to keep going— to leave more bites and bruises on his skin. Enough that they won’t fade, enough that no one doubts the fact that he’s yours.

His other hand rises to his mouth, shakily trying to muffle the embarrassing litany of gasps and groans that are punched from his chest. His cheeks are heated, his wool body feeling like it’s burning under your touch.

“I’m all yours,” Sylus can’t help but breathlessly murmur when you (regrettably) part from the painting of bruises on his neck. His eyes are hazy— dazed. Like he’s seeing the world in sparkles and shines, with you at the center of it all. His hand tightens around your waist. “Say it, my heart. Please.”

And he’s helpless as you caress his cheek so gently. Helpless to melt in the palm of your hand, cheek nuzzling against your touch like a man starved. His eyes flutter shut, and his one hand grasps yours, holding it still as he presses a kiss to the base of your palm, then your wrist, then each of your fingertips.

You shiver at the heat in his kiss— at the expression of pure love and desire that he wears. It’s hard to breathe, you think, when faced with your dragon’s immeasurable devotion. “You’re mine,” you say, soft and sincere, trying your best to not let your voice shake. Sylus shakes underneath you. “From now until eternity— you’re mine.”

And he groans, raw and ragged, the sound of deep satisfaction pulled from somewhere in the recesses of his soul. It feels so right when you say that— when you claim him as yours. It makes all the years he’s spent without it seem microscopic in comparison. He’d relive it all, just to hear you say it again and again.

“And you’re mine, as well,” Sylus says, taking your hand and pressing it over his chest, where his heart beats, but only for you. “And I will always find my way back to you.”

With a single smooth movement, he rolls the two of you until your back is cushioned against the sheets of the bed, and he’s hovering over you— the only thing you can see. Crimson eyes devour you hungrily, reverently. But his hand is still gentle as he caressed your cheek, soft in the way his arm around your middle still keeps you pressed against him.

“Let me show you my devotion, my heart, so that you never forget it again,” Sylus murmurs, the hand on your cheek trailing down— down your neck, past your chest, even lower than your stomach, and suddenly, you understand why dragons are described as greedy creatures.

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #「 💦 」 whipped.cream #Sylus x reader #sylus smut #lads smut #lads x reader #Love and deepspace x reader #Sylus #Love and deepspace #lads sylus #cw gn reader

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goldenstring6123 · 5 months ago

Note

a quickie request LISTEN LISTEN HEAR ME OUT…… sylus fingering reader so so so hard and fast with his long ass fingers and you’re arching up in pleasure and he’s breathing into your mouth, hard against your thigh….. 🌚 (sometimes my own thoughts remind me i have no shame 🙏)

Sylus: Putting you to sleep

Warning: 2.3k word Smut, 18+ only! MDNI, AFAB!reader, reader may or may not be the mc, Fingering, Nipple play, slight begging, quickies (?)

Author's note: hehe, this ain't a full blown sex yet but here ya go!

"How long do you plan on staring, sweetie?" the tall silver-haired man lowered his balled fists to his hips, promptly turning towards your figure, which leaned by the doorpost. You dawned on messy hair, a tight black undershirt, and night shorts. It took him no less than a second to piece that you just woke up.

"Couldn't sleep." You stated.

Sylus shifted his weight to the other leg. "Would you like me to do something about it?" sincerely, he offered, yet his ruby red eyes flickering with roguish intent.

"Is there anything you can do?" You can't help but ask. With Sylus offering to aid your sleepless fatigue a million thoughts raced through your mind. He could knock you out to sleep, or maybe he'll ask you to spar with him. Whatever it was, you were ready to turn him down.

"Of course. What kind of lover would I be?" He took his sweet time undoing his wrist wrap; meanwhile, you took your sweet and ample time to approach the boxing ring. Everything else was by far dim apart from that platform.

It was silent. Any sound echoed in the combat room, reverberating against the metal posts and cement walls. It was 2 am, and not a single soul was in sight. You weren't sure if you were scared that you were both alone or at peace because Sylus was with you.

He took off his black undershirt and threw it aside shortly after; he hopped down with a large thud and stood before you, his broad figure looming ominously.

"Sylus?" you called. He moved his hand and flicked his fingers behind you. The only source of light that made you see is now gone. A few seconds more, as you feel Sylus' hands slither around your exposed waist, a silver moonlight peering through the windows turning red.

You wanted to say something, but you dared not do it.

His touch was warm as it dragged against your skin, leaving a stinging heat in its wake. Soon enough, another hand landed on your body and thighs, gliding like paper. Softly, Sylus' fingers traversed the top of your thighs, sliding lower and lower until he grasped the underside of your thigh.

Sylus yanked you closer, your thigh upwards. A muffled gasp erupted from your lips the moment your chest pressed against his torso. The heat that emanated from his body made yours tingle, yet to the touch, it was wet and slippery from the sweat of his workout.

"You're unusually quiet," He whispered against your ear. His teeth nibbled the lobe of your ears. A shiver traveled down your spine, sensitivity only then being realized. You didn't want to reply. You were on a thin thread between tiredness and lasciviousness; you no longer had the energy to deal with other feelings.

Once in a while, it was all right to let Sylus take the lead.

He grinded his body against yours, rubbing every surface of your body. The thin strap of your undershirt falls down to your shoulder as if taunting your partner to pull it off further. Sylus could feel your breasts against his abdomen. Supple and soft, your nipples slowly work themselves against the cloth.

You heard shifting from around you, and you could hear the clothes and cushions gather near your footing. Sylus buried his nose in the crook of your neck, placing a wet kiss near your collarbone. He pushed you back, and you fell onto the soft mattress and fabric. Sylus knelt in between your parted legs, one hand on your knee and one on the side near your waist.

Your chest heaved up and down, cleavage well exposed as your undershirt became more and more rumpled against your body. Your stomach was exposed, and your shorts were rendered practically useless with how you felt, as if you had nothing on. You couldn't help but blame it on your lover as well, his glowing eyes staring at every crevice of your body as he methodically planned on how to devour you.

Sylus didn't want to waste any more time. He took advantage of your parted lips and crashed it against his own. His tongue asked no permission and entered your mouth, the sluggish muscle probing, prodding against your tongue. He tasted like wine. You were intoxicated. He needed to explore you again. As if it was his first time. Grunts escaped his mouth, reverberating as he savored the taste of you.

Your chest burned. It yearned for air, yet the depraving sensation sent your body on edge, sending pulses to your very core. You let out moans as Sylus parted his lips from yours. His hands were back to where it was: on your body. Teasingly, his long fingers slid under the stretchy cloth of your cloth.

He was taking his sweet time. But you were impatient.

You hurriedly lifted your undershirt over your chest, the chilly yet dry air finally blowing on your breasts. You grabbed your lover's big hand and guided it to your left breast, the thing fitting in his grasp all too well. You could see him smile even in the dark. "Don't tease," you demanded.

His hands began to work, to knead. Sylus basked at the feeling of your lithe tits. He brought his mouth lower and lower through the sloppy and wet kisses, from your collarbone to your cleavage, and in one second, he suckled on your breast.

"haah…" You let out, arching your back at the electrifying cold of his tongue against your perked nipple. His tongue flicked up and down, threading lightly on your sensitive tip before sucking. That was enough to make you elicit another moan.

His spare hand traveled lower and lower, this time slipping underneath the garter of your shorts. He used his EVOL again, and the piece of apparel slipped off in one swift motion, leaving you in your underwear.

Two fingers danced on top of your lingerie, circling your pelvis before languidly trailing lower, just above your clit. "Hng…" you could feel the finger brush past it, pressing your entrance lightly through the cloth. "Why do you…Ah—" He flicked at your clit and nibbled at your nipple. "—Keep on teasing?"

He hummed, offering no form of response. His two fingers finally showed some generosity, fully pushing against your clit while ever so slightly rubbing left and right. Your muscles tensed every time he rubbed; you couldn't help but puff out your chest as well, feeding it onto his mouth more.

The rubbing turned circular, fast, rushed, meant to make you nearly scream from the electrical bolts of pressure that traversed from your pussy, down to your legs, up to your breasts, and to your neck. You were trying your best to keep still, but with Sylus playing with you, it seemed like a farfetched goal. "Ah…Mhn!" He pulled his finger away and tore off the last remaining cloth that covered your lower parts.

You felt his fingers glide up and down the inside of your folds, brushing lightly on your entrance while also hitting your clit. He was doing it lightly to slather your own slick across your cunt and let a thick coat of slimy translucent liquid form a thin sheet over it.

You twitched at every sensation— Sylus had always been good with his hands. Be it with a weapon or with you. His long fingers can make you heed his command; at times like these, you let yourself submit. Then, without warning, Sylus slipped his middle finger in your hole, burying it until his knuckles touched your entrance.

"AH?!" Long. His fingers were fucking long!

In some sort of way, when he pierced inside you, it rubbed your g spot, which made you arch your back once more. The finger inside you curled up, pressing against that overly tender and hot walls of flesh that hugged it tightly. Your lover was generous enough to start with shallow thrusts. Yet, you could still hear the crude, squelching noises. As a few seconds pass, his light, shallow thrusts become more and more aggressive, pulling in and out, stretching the ring of your entrance.

Mewls and moans escaped your throat no matter how hard you tried to swallow it in. It did not help that the sounds you were making echoed around the training room, making you hear how you sounded.

Another finger slipped in, and that's when you felt the stretch. Sylus' finger moved in sync, hooking onto that one sport that made you tremble. He scissored his fingers and opened them wide, stretching you out too. The palm of his hand slaps against your skin, imitating a weak slapping sound, yet with it comes the squelch of your juices, overflowing out of your womanhood and trickling down to the mattress.

You gripped the cloth and cushion, hoping it could anchor you down, and it did its job somehow. Waves of pleasure overcame you as he continued to thrust, occasionally rubbing your clit with his thumb. You twisted and turned, even threatening to close your thighs at the sheer pleasure, but Sylus wouldn't let you.

He kissed you in between actions, muffling out your cries and slipping in his tongue without consideration. You were on the verge of your own sanity, the only sensation left being the quick pooling of pleasure at the bottom of your stomach. You were nowhere near your climax when he pulled out of you quickly.

"No! Sylus!" You cried, pushing yourself up to look at him. Under the red light, you saw him move his hand again, and you were suddenly enveloped by the dark mist of his evil, pulling you up and settling you on Sylus's lap.

You rested your arms on his broad shoulders, placing your weight on your knees, which were spread to his side. Slowly, the discharge in your pussy began to trickle down your thigh as nothing was plugging it up.

"Sylus—fingers." You demanded, biting his ear. He happily obliged with your requests, and soon enough, three fingers were pumping up your hole. His movements were erratic, switching between shallow and deep thrusts while simultaneously applying pressure on the tip of his fingers against your G-spot.

Your body twitched, and your eyes watered. To hide your scandalous moans, you kissed Sylus over and over again, him breathing into your mouth as you cried out his name. You could feel his Cock tight against his boxing shorts, yet you didn't want to take it out.

You were more than sure that you couldn't take it. With the state of your body and what your lover was doing to you, you were going to pass out the moment you hit your peak.

Sylus wasn't slowing down. Rougher and rougher, his hands worked with a rigorous desire to help you come. His whole hand was slathered with your juices, his ears filled with your delightful moans, which you failed to hide. His mouth sucked on your breasts, and his nose savored the raw scent of your body. Sylus never gets enough of these, and as much as he would've wanted to pound into it, he was too entranced by the moment.

The tips of your fingers began to heat up, your muscles turning tense as a cold sweat scattered through the back of your neck. Hurriedly, the pleasure pooled in your stomach overwhelmed you, filling you up and churning your core, "Sylus…" You called, almost begging. "I'm close….Mhng!" You throw your head forward, your mouth against his ear, as you no longer hold back your cries of pleasure.

"Ah! Ahnm! Hnng!" You let out.

You felt his thumb rub your clit again, and you bucked your hips forward, his fingers ramming your beloved spot roughly, repeatedly, torturously. You feel yourself well up, the heat in your stomach growing larger and larger the more Sylus rubs your clit. "Sylus…Sylus, Please, Sylus— I'm almost there!" You grabbed onto his hair for dear life, yanking it back before sloppily kissing him.

An electrifying ripple bloomed out from your pussy, making your lower region jolt at his continuous movements. You throw your head back and let out a scream laced with pleasure and desire— You can only see white as your insides throb, clutching onto the fingers that made you feel full.

God, that felt fucking amazing.

As you savored the high of your orgasm, Sylus looked up at you as he pressed his own face against your breast, marveling at the sight of you reaching your peak, reveling the loud and unconcealable thumps of your chest. He kissed your breasts and then your heart, slowly supporting your weight as you come down from your high.

He laid you down on the mattress ever so gently, brushing the sweat-riddled hair that stuck onto your face. Your eyes can't help but flutter shut, still savoring the last remnants of your orgasm. Tiredness washed over your body like the sea crashing onto the shoreline; with it, it brought relaxation and ease.

"Thank you," you whisper as you finally fall asleep.

Using his EVOL for the last time, Sylus gathered the clothes scattered around you and chucked them with his own. His towel from the wooden benches floated, promptly spreading and covering your exposed body. He picked you up, disregarding his own stiff manhood tucked in his pants.

He can deal with that later. For now, he should bring you back to your room and clean you up. The last thing he wants is for you to get sick.

Of course, Sylus didn't do this for free. He never does anything for free. You'd be a fool if you think he did.

Whether you know it or not, he'll make you compensate, and just your luck: he's getting up early tomorrow and more than eager to hear your cries again in the morning.

Author footnotes: With the amount of Sylus smut that I read, I wanted to write him without speaking much, y'know? just focusing on you and not coming up with witty replies to every word you say.Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost | Dividers by cafekitsune & me!

#lnds #lnds sylus #lads xavier #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds #sylus lnd #SYLUS

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naomiarai · 6 months ago

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— desperate !

╔. ■ .═══════╗

sex with your enemy

╚═══════. ■

➤ PAIRING — jake × fem! reader

➤ GENRE — pwop, slight fluff, (but literally no plot), kind of fwb? e2???

➤ WARNINGS — dom!jake, sub!reader, jake is kinda mean (?), manhandling, degradation, unprotected sex, backshots, kissing. lmk if i missed anything.

➤ WC — 1.3k

➤ AUTHOR — not proofread. i had a jake brain rot idk what happened but i put my SOUL into writing it even though it’s quite short. but again idk how i feel about it.

“I fucking hate you!” you shout, your voice shaking with anger as Jake drags you into an empty bedroom. The door slams shut behind you, the sound echoing in the small, dimly lit space.

Jake clicks his tongue in response, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Yeah? You always seem to fucking forget that when you’re sitting on my dick” he retorts, venom dripping from his words. His grip tightens on your arm, and in one swift motion, he lifts your skirt, his touch rough and demanding.

Youyr breath catches in your throat, a mix of fury and desire swirling inside you. “You’re such a jerk” you spit out, your voice wavering despite your attempt to sound resolute.

Jake’s lips curl into a cruel smile. “Maybe. But you like it, don’t you?” he says, his voice low and taunting. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine despite your anger.

You struggle against him, but the resistance only seems to fuel his determination. “Let go of me” you demand, though even you can hear the faltering in your voice.

His hand moves from your skirt to your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin. “Say it again” he challenges, his tone daring you to defy him. “Tell me how much you hate me”

“I do!” you whisper, your voice barely audible as his touch ignites a fire within you that you can’t control. “I hate you”

JJake’s laugh is a dark, hollow sound. “Liar” he murmurs before his lips crash against yours, silencing any further protest.

Your hands come up to push him away, but they falter, instead grasping the fabric of his shirt. His kiss is punishing, demanding, and you respond with equal fervor, anger and desire intertwining until you can no longer differentiate them.

Jake chuckles when you pull him even closer, his tongue slipping into your mouth, intertwining with yours. Saliva starts to pool at the corners of your lips, creating a wet, heated mess between you. He pulls away, breathless, his calloused hands gripping your ass possessively. “Just like all the others, ready to spread her legs wide for dick” he rasps, his voice dripping with a mixture of disdain and lust.

His words ignite a flare of anger deep within you, your eyes narrowing as you retort, “And you’d stick your stupid dick inside any fucking hole that presents itself” The tension crackles between you, electric and charged. His gaze darkens, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes as he pulls you even closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Is that what you think?” he growls, his hands roaming your body with a roughness that leaves you breathless. ”That I’m just some mindless animal looking for a place to stick it? When you were practically fucking Heeseung out there? You have no idea what you do to me”. The intensity of his words sends a shiver down your spine, your body betraying you as heat pools low in your belly.

You struggle to maintain your composure, your own hands clawing at his back in a desperate bid to regain some semblance of control. “Don’t flatter yourself” you hiss, though your voice wavers. “You're nothing special”

His laugh is dark and humorless, his grip tightening on your flesh. “We’ll see about that” he murmurs, before capturing your lips in another bruising kiss, his tongue dominating yours with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air.

You melt into his touch again, cursing at yourself for doing it so easily. Jake’s hands are everywhere, rough and demanding, yet somehow the sensation of his touch makes your skin tingle. He pulls away from your lips, his breath hot and ragged, and you see the flicker of raw desire in his eyes. In one swift motion, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the cold, hard surface of the nearby table.

The unexpected pressure against your body sends a shiver down your spine, your pussy throbbing and pulsating with need. You can feel your arousal soaking through the delicate fabric of your white thong, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “So fucking wet already” he murmurs mockingly, his voice a low, seductive growl that sends waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hand lifts your skirt, exposing your soaked underwear to his hungry gaze.

Your breath catches in your throat as you decide to push his buttons, a dangerous game that excites you to no end. “Heeseung probably has a bigger dick” you whisper, your voice dripping with defiance and mischief. The words hang in the air, a clear provocation meant to stoke the flames of his jealousy and possessiveness.

Jake's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh almost painfully. You can feel the tension radiating off him, a mixture of anger and arousal that makes your heart race. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “Is that so?” he growls, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. “Then let me know if he fucks you like this”. He zips down just enough for him his cock to spring out, tip red and angry, leaking precum

With a rough tug, he tears your thong away, the sound of ripping fabric mingling with your gasp. His hands spread your legs wider, positioning you perfectly for him. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

Jake thrusts into you without warning, filling you to the hilt in one hard, punishing stroke. The sudden invasion makes you cry out, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves you breathless. He sets a relentless pace, each thrust deep and forceful, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“You like that?” he growls, his voice harsh and breathless. “You like being fucked like this? Like a slut?” His words send shivers through you, the degradation only heightening your arousal.

“Yes—god” you gasp, barely able to form the word as he continues to pound into you. “Jake p..please! —hnng”

His hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in quick, tight circles. The combined sensations are overwhelming, pushing you toward the brink of ecstasy. You can already feel your orgasm building, a tight coil of pleasure ready to snap. One of Jake’s hand grabs at your asscheeks, spreading it open to sink how cock in deeper, causing you to let out a string of moans.

“Mmhm— right there! don’t stop” you moan out with a string of moans. Jake laughs at you meanly, “Stupid slut, look at you going clueless now” he says but you’re too out of it to give him an answer.

“Cum for me” Jake commands, his voice rough with his own need. “C’mon, aren’t you desperate to milk this cock baby?”

His words are your undoing. With a strangled cry, you fall over the edge, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crash over you. Jake follows soon after, his thrusts becoming erratic as he finds his release, spilling into you with a groan.

For a moment, the world is a blur of sensation, the intensity of your shared climax leaving you both breathless and trembling. As the waves of pleasure subside, Jake pulls out of you slowly, his hands gentle now as he helps you stand.

You turn to face him, your legs still shaky, and meet his gaze. There’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, a hint of vulnerability that makes your heart ache. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both catch your breath.

In that moment, you realize that despite the intensity, despite the games and the jealousy, there’s something deeper between you and Jake. Something that goes beyond the physical, something that might just be worth exploring.

But for now, you’re content to just be in his arms, savoring the afterglow of your shared passion.

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euthymiya · 4 days ago

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GOJO SATORU : ADVANTAGE

female reader ; mentions of alcohol and hooking up ; friends to lovers ; getting together (sort of) ; your typical clingy, annoying, and slightly shameless satoru

There is a boy in your bed.

That’s the first thing you notice when you wake up. The second thing is that his arms are curled around your waist. The third is that you’re both rather bare…which is the most mortifying part of it all. You have no recollection of what happened the night before to land you in such a scandalizing predicament—just that one drink turned into one too many.

So, with pretty limited options, you lay painfully still, trying to figure out what you should do. Should you leave? (No, this is your own home, after all). Should you wake him up? (That might make things a bit awkward, though). Should you pretend to sleep until he finally wakes up and leaves himself? (But that might take too long and your anxiety might kill you first). You weigh your options, still careful enough to stay still—at least, you try.

He suddenly pulls you closer, and you flinch against your will.

“Oh, you’re up!” He chirps instantly.

Everything stops as soon as you hear the voice. The world stops spinning. It might have even shifted from its tilted axis. Your blood runs cold. Your heart stops beating. You think maybe even for a moment, your soul may have left your body.

Satoru.

“Satoru?” You turn around quickly—and then, just as quickly, you give a small, panicked gasp and pull the blanket to cover your chest.

He eyes you in amusement as he causally says, “I already saw everything, so you don’t really need to bother with all that.”

How shameless. Which, of course, is pretty on brand for him. But still, how shameless.

“You’re unbelievable,” you hiss, glaring at him, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You invited me here,” he grins. It’s too wide for your liking. You’d mistake it for smugness if you didn’t know him a tad bit better—no, it’s purely gleeful.

“I did not,” you sputter.

“Oh, but you did,” he all but purrs. And then, much to your horror, he takes on a mockingly high-pitched voice and replicates what you assume is your drunk, alcohol-induced invitation from the night before. “Where are you going, silly? Come inside. Oh Satoru ~ you feel so good. More, Satoru—please! Satoru, you—”

“I do not sound like that,” you screech, glaring at him as one hand still protectively holding the blanket over your chest while the other moves to give him a harsh shove.

He chuckles, flopping back against your mattress as he holds his arm out for you. “No point in bickering over the specifics now. Come here.”

“For what?”

“Weaponized incompetence only gets you so far,” he clicks his teeth, “come, come. We’re going to cuddle before—”

You cut him off firmly. “We are not cuddling. You are going to get dressed while I close my eyes and then you’re going to walk yourself out the door and go home.”

He pouts, giving you a dramatically pathetic look as he murmur, “after I showed you such a good time? Don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

You don’t even remember the time that he supposedly showed you—although, it’s pretty evident that it happened. Very evident, in fact. The clothes on the floor. The slight soreness of your body. The faint bite marks on his collarbone (did you really do that?) and the beginnings of scratches starting at his shoulders.

It’s all….so obvious. So painfully clear that somehow, after a series of events, you’ve fallen prey to the charms of a boy you happen to know pretty well. Unfortunately for you, you also happened to get to know him a little better than you would have liked—and you don’t even have any memory of it.

You glare at him for a moment before muttering, “you should not take advantage of a drunk girl.”

His mouth opens for a second—and it just stays like that. Speechless. It might be the first time you’ve seen him that way, too. (It’s a shame you don’t get to appreciate it more given the circumstances—not a lot of people can say they’ve witnessed Satoru of all people have nothing to say).

“Maybe you took advantage of a drunk guy,” he retorts, huffing, “you know how I get after a drink or two. How do you know you didn’t prey on me?”

“You’re in my bed!”

“Only because you insisted your place was closer!”

You sigh exasperatedly, lying back against your pillow as you rub your temple. He shuffles closer, inching little by little in a comically unsubtle manner until he’s pressed against your side. He’s warm. His skin is soft and something about it feels good enough that you don’t immediately flinch away.

“This is weird,” you whisper. Still, you don’t move. You can’t. It’s hard to pretend like it’s not sort of nice getting to feel Satoru like this—so close and near and yours.

(Is he yours? Maybe not. But getting to pretend for just a moment doesn’t feel all that wrong).

“It’s not so bad,” he murmurs, quietly into the room as he looks around, a foreignly soft look in his eyes.

Just to be annoying, you feign being confused and ask, “what, my interior design?”

“Us,” he purses his lips, glancing at you, unimpressed. “It’s not so bad when it’s just us.”

“I think the alcohol made your brain permanently damaged,” you hum.

He rolls his eyes, scoffing lightly as you try not to smile. Gently, in a way that’s careful and delicate that Satoru usually is not, he snakes an arm around you and pulls you close. And just as carefully, before you can scold him with an undignified scowl, he pulls the blanket up to make sure you stay covered.

You stare at him cautiously, and he leans closer.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sober right now. And hungover, so I don’t appreciate you adding to my headache.”

“Rude,” you gasp, shoving at his chest again. He grins, one arm still wrapped tightly around you as he keeps you nice and flush against him.

“What say you to a nice brunch without any alcohol—just you, me, and maybe some coffee.”

Your heart skips a beat. You force yourself to pretend like you hardly care as you shrug and say, “I’d say you’re just trying to ease your guilt for taking advantage of me.”

“Actually,” he says pointedly, “you have to say yes to ease your guilt of taking advantage of me.”

“I say it’s all about perspective,” you crack a grin.

“Well, to put it into perspective for you, we’re getting brunch,” he says firmly, burying his nose into your shoulder.

You ask cheekily, “it’s on you, right?”

“Oh, sure. I guess you’re already perfectly fine with taking advantage of me a second time, huh?”

One night stand with ur friend satoru but the sexual tension has always been so thick it’s easy to cut with a plastic knife

#—rivistyping!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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❀ 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟐 Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru

Falling in love despite a language barrier.

𝐂𝐡. 𝟐 | 𝐖𝐜. 𝟐.��𝐤 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Satoru blinks awake to see your face. His heart beats harder.

結局昨日は夢ではなかったのか？ Yesterday was not a dream after all?

He's not an early bird at all, but from the first day of your visit he magically woke up early as if his soul was too excited to sleep when it knew you were right there, in the flesh. No screen. Just you.

When the first day starts, it feels like you've always been together. Was there ever a screen separating the two of you? And were you really going to disappear behind one again in just a month?

今のところ、彼女はここに留まるように感じています。彼女が訪問を終えて出発するとき、私は空港で赤ん坊のように泣くことになると思います。 For now, she feels like she's here to stay. I think I'm going to cry like a baby at the airport when she leaves after her visit.

Morning routines are carried out. The sky is cloudy at first, threatening rain, and by the time you three cluster into the kitchen to make breakfast together, it starts raining.

You and Satoru banter like two cats. Suguru's morning rasp is very strong.

"Satoru... uh... sugar?" you ask, preparing to make yourself a second one and automatically making Satoru another one, since he looks still very bleary-eyed even after spending an hour freshening up in the bathroom.

"...? Yes?" he tilts his head, then you raise the sugar cube jar. "Yes. Uh... four. Thank you."

Suguru's blushing because of the cute tension between you and his best friend. It fills the whole kitchen, which already felt full with their two bodies and a third one now. Everyone keeps bumping elbows and yet not complaining about it, in fact it's enjoyable to be squished together. Maybe because you three waited so long to be together in person, you don't mind it.

There's a silent, ever-present comedy in the air about the tight proximity.

You hum happily, tossing in one, two, three... four? That's a lot of sugar. "Suguru, tell Satoru he mustn't have so much sugar all the time. It's not good for his health."

Suguru laughs. "I try to tell him that every day. But his sweet tooth is incurable."

"His dentist must hate him." you smirk at Satoru, who's been looking at you blushingly after hearing his name mentioned.

彼女の声が今では一番好きな音だと思います。 I think her voice is my favorite sound now.

もう一度私の名前を言ってください。 Please say my name again.

"Satoru? Coffee?" you interrupt his lovey-dovey thoughts and he suddenly reanimates himself, because for a moment there he zoned out and just stared at you with those pretty eyes.

"Mmm... thanks." he takes the coffee from you with a noticeable timidness that you can't quite explain. There's a lot about him that's indescribable, you're having a small internal crisis; aren't you supposed to be fluent in English? And yet you can't even begin to describe just how sweet and gentle Satoru behaves. The most you can do is use metaphors that barely justify him.

"Suguru, tell her... her voice is nice, and also sorry for cuddling you in my sleep (and that she can definitely kick me away at night if it bothers her.) Also!" (the three of you head into the living room, and Suguru habitually trips over the cat who stalks under his feet too quietly to notice) "Also tell her... if it rains today, does she still want to go out? Because if we go out in the rain, she might get sick. And I don't want her to get sick on her trip. Not that I'd mind taking care of you, Y/n, of course."

Suguru lets out a long sigh and pulls a funny face. You smile amusedly.

"...It's too early to be a translator..." he grumbles in English after Satoru overloads him.

"What? C'mon tell her everything I said!"

"Let me have my coffee first. How about the two of you write to each other?" he suggests, putting the rim of the cup to his lips and sipping languidly.

"Eh, fine." Satoru pouts, and stalks off into his bedroom to get his phone.

Then, when he's in his bedroom, his chest flutters for some reason when he sees your suitcase standing there opened and emptied into the free cupboard space. He takes his phone, smiles at the homely feeling of seeing your belongings in his room, and leaves.

"Oh..." he has a sudden idea, and remembers the magnetic drawing board that's hanging in the kitchen. He and Suguru usually use it for writing reminders to each other, like get milk or you're an idiot or sometimes it has doodles of Mint the cat with sunglasses on.

So he returns to you with this magnetic drawing board, and points at it meaningfully, then holds one finger up and bows his head as he begins writing very slowly.

Suguru's checking the weather forecast and muttering sour complaints under his breath to you. "Of course it would rain for three days just when you arrive... at least by the weekend it will be clear and sunny..."

"Mmm... it's alright. A little rain never hurt nobody." you respond.

"I like your optimism." Suguru compliments flippantly at first, but then continues; "It's really uplifting. I think Satoru said something about you being a joy once, he said it really poetically but I can't recall it now."

"Aw..." you dip your head beneath your coffee cup, hiding the bashful expression on your face, which Suguru chuckles at.

And then, for a long moment, you just stare and watch Satoru writing on the board. You're completely captured in this moment, completely captivated in his enveloping presence as he sits next to you. He has slow, meticulous wrist movements. His knees press together, like he's worried that he'll invade your personal space if he sits too comfortably close to you. Funny, considering he cuddled you all night and you had no complaints about it.

He's writing very simply and neatly, just like how he texts you. You're a bit baffled by the characters he's using, though he's trying his best to avoid using any kanji knowing that you don't know a lot of it. He's sure you can figure things out by slowly pronouncing each hiragana character, or at least he hopes.

"Here." he hands you the magnetic drawing board, and then raises from the couch to go feed the cat.

"Minto-Minto... " he calls after the cat and makes a small cute sound to lure her out.

You're trying to read each hiragana character, eyes squinting a bit.

Suguru leans in close to you. He just takes a look, but the proximity for some reason gives both of you butterflies.

"Ooh... that's cute." Suguru comments after reading what Satoru wrote. His voice reaches deep in your tummy.

"Hm... I'll spell it out and... figure it out... anyways, why did you name your cat Mint?"

"Oh... well. There's two reasons. So the first..." he sets down his coffee, like he's about to tell you a great story, "Is because Satoru watched this show called Tokyo Mew Mew growing up, and he liked the character Minto. So he calls her Minto. And then I agreed on calling her that, but I call her Mint, because I hate mint the herb."

"You — haha, wait what? You call her Mint because you hate mint?"

"Yes. I hate mint, both the herb and the cat. She hates me too, clearly." Suguru raises his hand to remind you of how the cat scratched him the night before.

"Such a cute Hello Kitty sticker..." you tease.

"Thank you. Only the manliest men wear Hello Kitty Bandaids."

"How did she scratch you anyways...?"

"Oh, she likes to hang out in the washing machine if Satoru accidentally leaves it open. And when I try take her out of her comfy spot, she scratches me."

You sympathize, "Poor thing."

"What, the cat or me?" Suguru laughs.

"The cat." you lie teasingly.

"Wow! And here I thought you were being sympathetic!" he raises his brows.

You giggle and look at him, eyes finally making contact — ooh no that's bad bad bad, better break it immediately. So the two of you look away like you've both just indulged in a taboo intimacy. His stomach flips.

"Minto has been fed. She gave me cuddles." Satoru comes back into the room, and you admire the feeling he brings with him.

"No scratches?" Suguru asks.

"No, obviously, she loves me more than you." Satoru cheeks.

"Fuck you, haha."

Satoru makes his voice lower and leans to Suguru, "(Did she figure out what I wrote yet?)"

"Y/n did you figure out what he wrote?" Suguru asks.

"I'm trying so hard. What does this part mean...?"

Suguru shakes his head and puts his hands up. "Like I said, I'm not Mr Translator in the mornings."

"But you've had your coffee! Please, just this part..." you beg, and he can't deny that sweet begging. He easily folds for it, just like when Satoru begs for anything.

"Okay, where — this? Uh... Satoru your handwriting isn't usually this neat, is it...? That part means... 'voice'."

"Oh... ohhh!" you suddenly realize, and then the boys swoon over you when you pronounce the characters out loud to yourself.

"Uh... I think I know what it means..." you feel your cheeks warm up from the crown to your jawline.

あなたのこえがすき。 a-na-ta-no-ko-e-ga-su-ki.

"I like your voice, too." you respond to Satoru, and he half-gets it and gives you a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

You look at each other and then promptly look away with shy smiles.

"You two are cute." Suguru comments.

"Ahah... ahah shut up... hey, the sky has cleared up." you point out.

"Ooh... it cleared up 'cuz Satoru walked back into the room."

You awe at what he said.

"?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Translator — (stop talking about me behind my back!)"

Suguru chuckles, "I wasn't! I was just — never mind. Let's get ready to head out."

And so you head into Satoru's bedroom to get ready, and Suguru heads into his bedroom, and Satoru himself goes into the cramped bathroom. Poor boy. He's really too tall for that archway, he bumped his head again.

彼女に花を買ってあげるべきでしょうか？それともちょっと多すぎますか？ Should I buy her flowers? Or is it a bit too much?

（なんてことだ）、なぜこのシャツには穴が開いているのでしょう？ (Oh my god), why does this shirt have holes?

The door slides open, he steps out of the bathroom half-dressed, and intends to quickly slip into Suguru's bedroom to borrow a shirt instead of awkwardly knocking on his bedroom door and disturbing you.

But oh, you know what? The cheesiest possible thing happens instead. The universe likes making Satoru's life a little more fun in odd times. So the two of you encounter each other in the hallway; you're fully clothed and he's got just pants and socks on.

He stutters once, swallows awkwardly, and even more awkwardly places his hand on your head as if to say sorry for this inconvenience.

But you laugh in response to the funny situation.

ああ、またあの美しい笑い声。 Ah, that beautiful laugh again.

"Sorry." he mutters, and disappears to go get a shirt from Suguru.

"It's okay." you reply.

The image of your pretty smile is burned in his head.

You can hear him telling Suguru something in the other room, and then you hear Suguru's muffled laugh as a response.

"(Don't laugh! I'm embarrassed! She's seen me shirtless now! No one's seen me shirtless except you!)"

"(You're such a virgin.)"

"(Say that again, I dare you.)"

"(Sorry, I don't understand you. I don't speak virgin, only English and Japanese.)"

You're wondering why Satoru sounds so embarrassed and annoyed, and then he groans down the hallway. It feels like you're their roommate, it's funny.

"Hi."

The two of you encounter each other in the hall again. This time he has a shirt, yes. And this time Suguru is there, too, and he's holding back an amused smile. He fluffs Satoru's hair as a way of embarrassing him more.

So Satoru leaves, and he leaves in such a way that it's super comedic, making you and Suguru laugh. Ooh, what a laugh that boy has; his Addam's apple shifts up and down deliciously.

"Ah... Suguru? I need help with the washing machine..."

"Yes...?"

"...this kid on the plane who sat next to me, he spilled strawberry juice all over my shirt and now it's sticky."

"But at least it smells like strawberries, right?" he jokes. "You can put it in the washing machine, I'll be doing the laundry in a second anyways..." there is a small moment of eye contact shared, then Suguru looks down, and frowns at something he sees, "(SATORU YOU LEFT YOUR SOCK ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!)"

"(Haha, sorry.)" you hear Satoru half-heartedly apologize from the other room.

So Suguru picks up the sock like an annoyed mother and goes to lecture Satoru.

"(You're embarrassing me in front of our guest. For the love of god, don't leave your goofy ass socks on the floor. What if she slips on them?)"

"(You're such a mother, Suguru.)"

You're calmly and casually going to put your juice-stained shirt in the washing machine like Suguru said, but then...

(the boys are talking and there's just this hilariously dramatic scream from the laundry room)

"DID THE CAT SCRATCH YOU?"

"(Did the cat scratch her?)"

"Ow, y-yeah!" you whine.

Suguru's the first one at the crime scene, and he picks up the cat and proceeds to lecture the cat as if it understands Japanese. It licks its lips and nubby nose and has an evil stare. You giggle.

"I'm so sorry... come, uh — (Suguru, we still have Hello Kitty adhesives somewhere, right?)" Satoru instinctually holds your hand that got scratched.

And he holds it so tenderly and caringly that it makes your whole chest quake for him.

彼女の手の傷はとても小さなものですが、それでも私は心臓がチクチクするのを感じました。 Although the wound on her hand was very small, I still felt my heart tingle.

He leads you to his bedroom, picking up some adhesives and antiseptic on the way, and sits with you on the unmade beds. You watch his fingers nimbly peeling the plastic off the adhesive, admiring how swiftly and perfectly he does even the littlest things. He has such a great attention to detail, it makes you self-conscious; is he thinking of you with the same attention to detail as everything else? Yes... he is.

He dabs some antiseptic on your small scratch, and then gently wraps and pats the Hello Kitty adhesive around it. You're pretty sure he's the one who bought them. Oh, if only you could ask him, but where even is your phone? Lost in a void somewhere, probably.

"Thank you, Satoru."

His eyes light up. His heart thumps. Why did those small, simple words have such a great effect on him?

"Mhm." he hums in acknowledgement. "You're welcome."

あなたの傷がもっと良くなるようにキスしたいです。 I want to kiss your wounds to make them better.

A second after thinking this and looking at your hand, he brings it to his lips and presses a very delicate kiss to the edge of your wrist, where the small cut spanned up to the base of your palm. Can you even call it a kiss? It's more like his lips graze your skin, hovering timidly.

And for some reason... the atmosphere becomes very intimate. Is it because of the place where he kissed you? The inner wrist has never occurred to you to be an intimate spot, and yet you're feeling as if he just kissed you on the lips.

You hear him audibly swallow, like he's conscious of this, too. The both of you become very aware of the tension in the atmosphere.

And then he looks apologetic, as if he overstepped a boundary. So you mutter a small, whispery "thanks..." which lifts his heart up into his throat and reassures him that you don't mind the intimacy.

"Mmm..." he blinks at you, pursing his lips.

His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and it feels like he's about to... well you know his body just wants to... he sort of...

"Hey, how's the wounded patient?" Suguru interrupts, and you and Satoru spring apart like you're elastic bands that just got released after being stretched.

"Ahah, I'm okay. It's not a bad scratch." you lift your hand, "I'll cherish this Hello Kitty Bandaid forever, thank you."

"Yeah, Satoru bought 'em so you can thank him."

"I knewww he bought them, haha! So expected... cutiepie." you admire Satoru, and he's pretty sure that the last thing you said is some cute nickname, so he smirks.

"Okay, well... anyways, let's head out before the sun rises too high and it gets too hot to walk."

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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pinkmirth · 1 year ago

Text

KEEPER!

SYNOPSIS! ⸻ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?

CONTAINS⸻ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

MY LOVE LETTER! ⸻ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎

reiner’s your bulking shadow, never trailing too far behind.

he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.

things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.

nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?

it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.

before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.

‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.

reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.

what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.

“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”

you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.

“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”

you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.

reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.

eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.

you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.

but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .

reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.

he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.

you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ — can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.

so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.

your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.

it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.

you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.

“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .

he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.

“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.

“stop what?” is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.

“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”

“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”

“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”

right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.

see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.

upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.

upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.

it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.

you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?

the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.

“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.

“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”

in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.

“oh, please do.”

being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.

there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”

“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .

“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.

mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.

“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.

experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.

“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.

“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.

“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.

by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.

reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.

as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.

“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.

“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.

you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.

“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.

he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.

“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.

reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”

not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.

he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.

“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.

“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.

“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.

“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.

reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.

“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.

“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.

“yes, tonight, rei!”

he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—

“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”

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dejwrld · 1 year ago

Text

CHOSOIST KINKTOBER GAMING PLAYLIST — WEEK 2

( GUARDIAN ANGEL ) 🎮 GUARDIAN ANGEL!SEPHIROTH X READER

— game synopsis: he's been your guardian angel since you were sixteen years old. protecting you from danger you didn't see coming, but now that you're slowly wanting space from him—he makes it his mission to remind you who you belong to until you take your final breath.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, slight enemies to fuckers, reader somewhat purposely put herself in danger, possessive!sephiroth, mentions of sephiroth having pretty white wings, mating press position, cream pies, mentions of soul ties,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀kinktober masterlist / previous playthrough

You’ve known him since you were sixteen years old. The mere memory of him grabbing at your backpack strap to tug you out of the way as you were about to walk into ongoing traffic imprints your brain like a nostalgic TV memory. He was a sixteen-year-old guardian angel who aged through the years as you grew, interfering in your life as if you were the most life-threatening person ever.

Freshman year of college, he’s taking the red solo cup of whatever mixed potion the older frat guys made out of your hand. This led to practically the whole campus thinking you were chronically insane as you argued with no one because they couldn’t see what you saw. He interfered with your life at moments when you had it all under control, and he didn’t need to baby you as if you didn’t. But you were grateful for him, and the things he did stop when things got bad.

It's like killing a guy who roofied you at a bar. Despite the toxic drugs from drinking your drink, it had you feeling like you were in another world. You remember the crimson-red liquid staining his large, elegant white wings after the deed was done. After that, he’s never left your side, and you grew to feel suffocated. You couldn’t do much in your life if you had your guardian angel down your neck twenty-four-seven commenting on you getting hurt or dying.

Now an adult, he still was here. Despite you being perfectly fine. No freak accidents, no near-death experiences. He still was here lurking around as if you were a child.

Right now, watching as you poorly attempted to get laid. Your panties dangle from your ankle as you wait for the guy to insert, but as your horny meter slowly decreases—so does the poor stranger you met at a bar cock. Your eyes averted between your bodies as he aggressively pumped his condom-covered cock; you could hear his laughs as he was sitting on your kitchen counter chewing on an apple.

Fuckin’ Sephiroth.

“You know what? That’s okay. Just leave.” You pushed the guy off you, limp dick and all while you’re scrambling to tug your panties back on.

“What? It just takes some time,” The guy’s tugging his pants up in frustration. “Just please…baby.” He’s grasping on you, and you’re swatting his hand away like it’s an annoying fruit fly.

“Just go. I’m no longer in the mood.” You warned.

This was a warning not only for yourself but for him. You had a 6’1 angel looming around your apartment who didn’t care to kill someone—especially a person who wasn’t following directions. Your eyes darted from him in the kitchen to the guy who kissed his teeth while collecting his belongings.

“Don’t call me anymore! You completely wasted my time.” He sneered at you while leaving your apartment. The door closed with a harsh slam that made you jump.

As silence drifts over your apartment, and the only thing you can hear is the sound of that annoying clock in your kitchen ticking, you lean back on the couch with a sigh. “You know, you completely ruined the vibe, you know?” Your eyes land on the white-haired male as he finishes the apple he obnoxiously chews on.

“Do not blame it on me.” He tosses the apple in a trash can and stands up to close the space between you.

“I am blaming you because it seems like every romantic connection I attempt to make, you are there to ruin it.” You sneered at him before sitting up. “I don’t think this will work anymore, Sephiroth.”

“Are you saying you want to release me of my duties of being your guardian angel?” He asks. You can feel he got closer despite shifting your eyes closed to calm yourself down from this talk.

You two have been together for years. He’s been protecting you for years, and now it felt so suffocating that you couldn’t breathe. Sometimes, you wanted to release him of his duties, but you knew when you did that every memory you’ve shared with him would vanish. It would be like you two have never met.

The sight of him with his elegant white wings on his back. The sight of blood staining his pale skin after murdering someone that hurt you. The look of worry when you almost walk into traffic, and he was a split second from being too late.

He was yours just as much as you were his. But you needed space.

“Yes.” You breathed out, pushing yourself off the couch to enter your room. “You know, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t think we can co-exist in each other’s lives anymore.” You explained you turned around, and he was leaning against your doorframe with the most obnoxious face.

It was as if your words were going out one ear and the other for him. “We’re not young anymore. I don’t need you being so….so.” You were searching for the word to describe how you felt—frustration riddling your bones as you attempted to express yourself.

Sephiroth took steps forward, closing the gap between you two. When he was towering over you with such little care at how close he was to you—he fixed your tank top strap and let his slender fingers linger on your shoulder just a little longer to cause goosebumps to garnish your skin immediately.

“Possessive.” He finishes your sentence as his teeth graze upon his lower lip. “Is that the word you’re searching for, my little ward?”

And with challenging eyes, you met his and said, “Yes. Possessive, like you own me or something.”

His chuckles. But this chuckle was different from the one you have heard. It felt more sinister, more agitated.

“You’re stuck with me, love. If you like it or not. We’re bound together until you die of old age or better yet, I briefly take my eyes off you as fate finally chooses a moment for you to die. Maybe a bus will hit you as you walk into traffic for texting on that silly device of yours, or maybe you’ll accidentally hit your head.”

Your eyebrows furrow together in frustration and anger at his words.

“You enjoy my company but don’t want to admit it. You think I didn’t notice the way you bring home little flings to spite me. You think I can’t hear the way your heartbeat quickens at the sight of me watching you get fucked by some man who can’t even make you orgasm. Sephiroth’s eyes glance over your body like he was observing you under a microscope. “So tell me, Y/N.” His finger’s toying with that strap on your tank top that keeps falling off your shoulder.

“How many times have you imagined me, your sworn protector—your guardian angel fucking you?” His fingers drag alongside your nipples that harden through the thin white fabric of your tank top. “And don’t lie; I know when you’re lying to me.”

You couldn’t quite remember what you had said after his words for your knees to be pressed upon your stomach and for Sephiroth’s cock to be buried into your throbbing cunt while your moans bounced off the walls. The pornographic sound of heated skin slapping against each other with the sound of your headboard banging against the wall was like music to your ears. But you enjoyed the sight of Sephiroth more.

His crystal white hair fell in his face so perfectly. Comically enough, you wanted to say he looked like an angel. His eyes kept averting between your fucked out face and in between your body. With each glance down there, it seemed he fucked you into the mattress even harder. Instantly, your legs snake around his waist, completely trapping him from depriving you of what you were so eager for.

Sephiroth chuckles darkly through your pants of desperation, “Seems you’re enjoying this a little too much.” He mumbles. He pulls his cock entirely out of you, leaving you whining for more.

He guides his cock in between your pussy lips rubbing in the mixture of your essence and pre-cum. Your back arched off the mattress with urgency, and he pushed you back down so you could endure the pleasurable torture of his cock teasing you until you were staining the cotton sheets below your naked body. With each stroke between your puffy lips, you’re squeezing your eyes shut tightly to prevent even the littlest thought of him seeing you like this. You didn’t think you could fathom the mere embarrassment.

“Come on, you don’t want to see how well you take me?” He questions, his voice rings with a teasing tone that makes your pussy pulse.

“Fine then.” He mumbles what seems to himself before he hooks his strong arms under your knees, completely trapping you under him and what’s to come.

You wondered if Sephiroth could hear how fast your heart was beating. It felt like it was bouncing around your chest like a small ball in a pinball machine. The feeling of his thick tip brushing against your entrance felt like the world had stopped. Perhaps it did. The idea of a guardian angel fucking his ward into her mattress had to be some form of rule breaker, right? Maybe, just maybe—God had briefly paused the world to give you time to weigh out the pros and cons of this.

But when Sephiroth bottomed down inside you, you felt the world unpause, and a wave of pleasure travel across your body. You even could hear yourself let out a sigh of relief—as if you’ve been waiting for this moment in centuries. The way his cock was inside, you felt like it was a missing piece in a puzzle you need. It fit perfectly, but when he started rotating and thrusting his hips—you couldn’t help but call out his name like it was a scripture.

It wasn’t as if you could do anything else but take his sensual thrusts. The mating press position trapped you from doing anything else but that. The way he was making you feel at the moment had you ignoring all that. Your moans echoed into his ear, and Sephiroth was very responsive because he’d grunt back like a rabid animal in heat. Ensuring that the feeling was mutual. That he was feeling just as good as you were.

“After this, you’ll be stuck with me forever, right?” Sephiroth asked. His tongue drags alongside the bridge of your right ear, and instantly, your legs snake around his waist, locking your feet together so he won’t let go.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” His words send a chill down your spine as he continues to fuck into the mattress.

The pornographic sound of heated flesh echos upon your bedroom, and your eyes seem to squeeze shut in bliss. Savoring the moment between the two of you until you couldn’t anymore. Your pussy pulsed around his cock, and your thighs quivered under your guardian angel’s touch. His grip on you grew tighter, and you knew that he was unraveling right on top of you. His groans that echoed in your ear changed into whines of desperation. If you were being honest with yourself, you haven’t seen him this desperate in your life.

But it was a reason for that because, in just three seconds, he was a coming mess. He didn’t even bother to pull out, either. His nails dug into your heated flesh with each thrust inside of you, ensuring that each droplet of his cum stayed inside of you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you leaned up to indulge in a heated kiss to seal the deal that you knew was going to follow you for years.

You truly were stuck with him forever until you took your last breath.

TAGS // @salaciousdoll @syndrlla97 @lilvampirina @msun1c0rn

#sephiroth x reader #sephiroth smut #final fantasy smut #final fantasy x reader #female reader #x female reader smut #video games x reader #video games smut #angelshubnetwork #chosoistkinktober23 #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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cryptidghostgirl · 11 months ago

Note

hiii can i request a silly little scene i have in my head? ok so!

alastor x wife! reader- theyve been together since they were alive, legit partners in crime they both encouraged eachother to kill and when they reunited in hell after around 8 years they were independent once again UNTIL They got in trouble with Lilith and she took reader to be like her slave until Alastor finished helping Charie with her dream (until he helped prove that demons can be redeemed) so they didnt see each other for another 7 years (his absence)

And all throughout the first season hes like “I miss my wife, Husk. I miss her a lot” (while drunk-) like that one sonic dub meme and starts shaping his shadow creature into reader and talking to it and everyone is like “m yep he’s officially lost it.”

BUT then Sir Pentious is redeemed and Lilith sees and shes like “damn :/“ and send reader to the new hotel via portal and reader just. falls on the ground in front of the big entrance and everyone hears it and they rush out and Alastor is quiet, wide eyed and reader goes smth like “i know- i shouldnt have accepted it in your name but-“ blah blah she rambles on about it and Alastor just goes “Youre as beautiful as the day I los you.” LIKE THAT HEARYBREAKING SCENE FROM HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2 ;-; and everyone reacts in their own way

I REALLY NEED THIS BUT I LACK THE ABILITIES TO DO IT HEEELP (love u)

A/N oh bestie,, i got you. I was actually planning on something similar where Alastor was getting drunk at a bar and talking about the love of his life (I'm still gonna write that one too but I really like this prompt!!) You guys really come up with the best requests, please keep sending them in.

Fuel and the Fire (Alastor x Wife!Partner-in-Crime!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: ANGST also bad words (idk why i wrote the warnings like this). Also Angel Dust is in this one and I love him but he is a warning on his own.

Word Count: 2,392

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor and Y/n, partners in crime, the fuel and the fire. On a first glance, it would be assumed she was his fuel, the coal and dry leaves he fed himself by. Once anyone got to know them -- and god, what trouble a person was in if they got to know them -- they quickly realized it was the other way around.

Hand in hand from day one, from childhood. Running from the cops, washing the blood off one another's faces. In the living world and life after death, nothing could tear them apart. He was the soil she planted herself in, he was her rock and Y/n? Well she was Alastor's everything. He'd do anything at all for her, all she had to do was ask.

For a decade, they terrified the living world. They were the reason to double check the lock on the door before bed, they were the ominous shadow at the corner. When cold death wrapped them in his reckless grasp, they turned their terror on Hell.

The pair made a name for themselves quickly, filling up the airwaves and making waves in the underworld. For generations, they reigned supreme. For generations, they knew no fear. Then one day, they simply disappeared.

When Alastor reappeared on the streets seven years later without his shadow, the town was alight with gossip. No one knew where he had been, where she still was, or why he had returned but Alastor quickly rebuilt his operation, setting up shop at Lucifer's daughter's Hazbin Hotel along with several of the souls he owned.

The hotel's other residents and workers were distrustful of the man, to say the least. He was shifty, wore a constant smile, and rumors circled around him like birds of prey. That was until about three months into his stay, at least.

Angel hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been coming down to the bar for a drink and a rant of his own when he'd heard the familiar, crackling voice of the Hotel's host.

"I just... I miss her so much, Husk."

He sounded sad, utterly dejected. Angel crouched down on the staircase, hiding his slim body behind one of the ornate posts supporting the railing.

"You keep saying that but do nothing to go find her. She disappeared the same time as you, you know." came Husk's gruff reply.

"I know she did."

"You keep saying that, acting like you know something. Admit it: you don't know shit, Alastor."

Alastor's radio waves faltered, squeaking slightly. Angel tensed in terror, wondering if he'd been found out. This was clearly a private conversation, and the Radio Demon was testy at the best of times. Right now he seemed positively furious.

"Don't test me, Husk." Alastor said after a moment, breaking the tense silence, "She... we both got roped into something. I am doing my part, she is doing hers."

Angel straightened himself up, deciding it was high time he entered the room. He still wanted that drink, after all. He let his feet fall heavily on the stairs, alerting the others to his presence. Husk turned toward the sound, meeting Angel's eyes as he entered the bar. Alastor, on the other hand, kept his back to the spider demon.

Taking a seat beside Alastor, Husk immediately poured Angel a drink and slid it across the counter towards him.

"So, tough night, Smiles?" Angel asked, turning to Alastor who downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my good fellow." Alastor hummed in response.

There was a threat in his voice, but Angel could tell the demon's heart wasn't in it. Everything was just, odd.

"Yeah... sure..." Angel scoffed, taking a sip of his own drink.

"Radio man was crying to me about his wife five seconds ago." Husk grumbled and Angel's eyes went wide.

"You have a wife?" he asked, turning back to Alastor, "I mean, I get it. I'm in to the whole 'tall dark and creepy' thing too but, you care about someone? I don’t know if I can see it.”

Alastor's eyes narrowed as he turned on Husk. The cat demon rolled his eyes in a brazen display of disrespect. He knew his master well, knew this was the only thing he had any leverage with the man on. With a deep breath, Alastor placed his hands firmly on the bar top and pulled himself to his feet. Not saying another word, he disappeared into his shadows.

That had been the first odd occurrence. Of course Angel had told Charlie and Charlie had told everyone, had even approached Alastor about it. The Radio Demon brushed it all off with skill and for a while, things were quiet.

About a month later, the second strange thing began happening. Alastor had always had a certain sway over shadows, everyone knew that. However, he very rarely used them, brought them out if it wasn't to hide him or take him where he needed to be. Then, suddenly, one began to follow him.

"Uh, Alastor?" Charlie had timidly approached him the first time she saw this happening.

"Yes, Charlie my dear?" Alastor asked, turning to face her as he tossed his microphone in the air, catching it neatly in the center of the stand.

"Well, we were just wondering if everything was... okay?" she asked, her hands behind her back and a pointed gaze on the shadow.

"If everything..." Alastor trailed off, following the path of Charlie's gaze and realizing what was going on, "No, no my dear. Everything is quite all right, quite alright indeed."

"Well, okay... If you say so." Charlie had relented after a few moments, unsure of what else to do.

Eventually, the members of the Hazbin Hotel grew used to the shadows, they too slipped out of their minds. Overcome with impending doom of the extermination just a month away, Alastor's strange behavior was no longer a priority.

That had been until the third odd occurrence came into being. It was Sir Pentious who had noticed it first, drawing it to the group's attention as Alastor walked through the lobby and past the group doing trust exercises there on his way to some meeting or another with the other overlords.

"Sir Pentious?" Charlie had called, trying to bring him back to earth as he watched the place Alastor had occupied, "Sir Pentious?"

"Pentious!" Vaggie yelled and his head snapped to her, "You're not coming up with some new plan to attack Alastor, are you?"

"No!" he quickly exclaimed, waving his hands frantically in the air, "Not at all just..."

"What?" Vaggie asked through gritted teeth, advancing a step forward, her spear in hand.

"It's just... doesn't that shadow Alastor has had following him well.... doesn't it kind of look like a woman?"

Husk broke out into wild laughter while Angel widened his eyes.

"Oh, he's definitely lost it now." Husk exclaimed as he calmed himself, clutching his stomach, "If I knew Y/n was the secret to breaking him down, I woulda done something about it years ago."

"No you wouldn't have, ya big talker." Angel teased, elbowing the cat demon lightly.

"Y/n?" Sir Pentious asked.

"Alastor's wife. That was her name." Husk replied.

"Did you know her?" Charlie asked.

Alastor had left the hotel, the threat that had held their questions at bay for months was gone and the topic was right. Husk nodded.

"So, what's she like?" Angel asked suggestively, "Is she more of a dom? Does deer boy like to get dicked down by his lady?"

"Gross." Charlie shook her head, her hands to her temples, "I do not want to know that."

"She's a good kid." Husk said after a moment, "She's nice..."

He trailed off.

"But?" Vaggie prompted, sensing there was more that he wanted to say.

Husk sighed.

"If you think Alastor is trouble, she's a fucking house fire set for the insurance money."

"So probably not interested in being a guest." Charlie dejectedly stated.

Husk shrugged.

"You never know. It has been seven years since anyone has seen her. Alastor allegedly knows where she's at but, he hasn't gone after her. Just keeps whining to me about it so, I don't know. Maybe she's changed. I doubt it though. Sweet as a pea, sharp as a knife."

Charlie had never felt such relief as when she learned Alastor had not died in the chaos of the battle. The hotel was destroyed, heaven was pissed, Sir Pentious had died but, at least he was alright. They rebuilt the hotel, Alastor's same shadow of a woman trailing after him wherever he went. After about a week, thanks to all the angelic and demonic powers involved in the construction, the new Hotel was finished.

It was just as they put the finishing touches on the place, hung the portrait of Sir Pentious they'd commissioned above the fire place, that a portal opened in the lobby. Everyone tensed, banding together behind Charlie and Alastor. Angels were coming, they were sure of it.

A crash echoed from the other side, a sharp yell and then something tumbled through the portal. With a flash, the portal disappeared behind the shape of a person huddled on the floor. She coughed violently.

Alastor's eyes went wide. Everyone else was too distracted to notice, but if they'd have been paying attention, they would have seen his shadow disappear.

The girl was filthy, her clothes torn and her hair tangled. She let out another, sharp cough before slowly lifting her head. Alastor took a trembling step forward.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice soft in disbeleif.

A smile, wide and sharp, split the woman's bruised face in two.

"Hey hun, I'm home."

In a flash, he was at her side, helping her to her feet, checking her for wounds.

"Jesus, Y/n." he sighed, "You're a mess."

"I know."

"Y/n-"

"I know. I shouldn't have done it, you don't need to lecture me. I didn't have a choice. It was you or me, Al. I couldn't... I can't... I had to. You've gotta understand."

"Sweetheart-"

Y/n cut him off again, her speech a single, constant, stressed-out stream.

"It was stupid, I know. I know. I really do but, she gave me the option and I couldn't say no cause then if I said no you'd really be the one in trouble a-"

Alastor raised a hand gently to her cheek and Y/n's words caught in her throat. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes at last.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

His voice was soft, so quiet the others could barely hear him. Y/n's cheeks flushed a bright pink. Her hands found the lapels of his jacket, holding them lightly.

"I.." she stuttered, her mind racing.

With a sigh and a slight shake of her head, she gave up in the search for words and buried herself in his chest. Alastor wrapped his arms around Y/n, pressing her tightly into his frame.

"God, I missed you." she said, her voice muffled by the fabric.

Alastor pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"I love you." she continued, "I'm so sorry."

Alastor pulled her off of him, leaning down the slightest bit so they were eye to eye. Y/n, wiped a stray tear away, letting out a slight, sad laugh. Alastor's eyes traversed her face, caressing every crevasse.

"I'm so glad your alright but, I don't understand." he said at last, "How are you back? The deal..."

Y/n nodded and Alastor's eyes went wider still. Leaning on Alastor's shoulder for support, she turned her eyes onto the rest of the group.

"You must be Charlie." she hummed softly, meeting the young demon's gaze.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie stepped forward and nodded.

"Yes, I am. I run the Hazbin Hotel, which is where you are, to help rehabilitate sinners."

"I know." Y/n nodded, her voice quavering slightly, "I've heard so much about you. You... my dear, it worked."

"I- what?" every other question died in Charlie's throat, shock shot through her body like a bullet.

"It worked." Y/n confirmed, "You did it. I had a deal, a deal which Alastor went to your side to get me out of. If you succeeded in redeeming a soul with his aid, I would be free. And here I am."

"Here you are." Alastor repeated, spinning Y/n to face him once again.

She wobbled unsteadily on her feet. Catching sight of this along with the numerous wounds all over her body, Alastor scooped Y/n up into his arms like he did when they had first been married, when they had crossed the first threshold together. Y/n looped her arms around his neck, exhaustion seeping in with the relief as she let her head fall on his chest.

"Vaggie..." Charlie began as she turned to her girlfriend, "you don't think..."

"Pentious?" Vaggie asked and Charlie nodded.

"It's gotta be." Angel confirmed.

"You did good, kid." Husk smiled, patting Charlie on the back.

Y/n raised her head at the sound of a familiar voice, her eyes opening.

"Husker?" she asked with a smile.

The cat demon stepped forward, bowing slightly.

"Husker! I-"

"Enough of that, my love." Alastor cut her off, tapping her nose gently, "You need a shower and some rest. You can meet everyone in the morning."

Y/n crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at her husband.

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise." he sighed.

"Does that mean you're staying?" Charlie asked tentatively and the couple turned to her.

"Whatever the little lady desires." Alastor stated, looking back down at his wife in a lovestruck daze.

"Yes, Charlie. We're staying." Y/n laughed, "Things need to start changing around here and I don't see anyone else doing a god damn thing to make that happen except for you."

"I.." Charlie was speechless, the kindness this fear inspiring woman was directing towards her, having never met her before. What Husk had said made sense, she smiled, "Thank you. I don't know what you did, but that you both so much."

"Anything for my favorite girl." Alastor kissed Y/n softly.

"Oh, get a room." Angel scoffed, rolling his eyes.

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