#falls to the floor in a heap oh my GOD

[eregored]

check to see for yourself tehehehe <3

[eiightysixbaby]

horror movies & chill

word count: 2.6k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie tries to scare you and gets more than he bargained for.

cw: SMUT - 18+ MINORS DNI. this is literally porn with a smidge of plot, sorry not sorry. mask kink, choking, degradation kink on the low (eddie calls reader slut/whore), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie

The TV screen lights up the dark living room, flashes of different colors streaking across the space. You sit on the couch, blanket draped over your lap as your knee bounces absentmindedly. Your boyfriend had wandered off to get something, and now you sit alone in suspense as the girl on screen figures out there’s a killer in her house. The movie goes eerily quiet, the lone heroine peering around her silent home. You know what’s coming next. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that when it gets too quiet, a jump scare is right around the corner.

And yet.

You scream in unison with the girl on television, two hands gripping your shoulders from behind just as the fictional killer grabs his target. You spring up off of the couch, the blanket falling to the floor in a heap. You spin around, frantic, your body gone cold for a moment. Wicked laughter erupts in front of you as you get your bearings, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“God dammit, Eddie!” you shout, hand over your heart as you attempt to steady your breathing. “You absolute asshole!”

Eddie’s doubled over behind the couch, a cheap Halloween store Ghostface mask covering his head. He’s still laughing, trying to get words out and failing.

“Baby…” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even though he’s trying to be serious. What a dick. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d get you that good,” he says, walking towards you.

“You’re such a jerk sometimes,” you reply, but nevertheless you let him grab your arms, rubbing soothing patterns on the skin.

“I know. I am, baby, you’re right. That was mean,” he agrees, nodding his head beneath the black and white mask. You know he'd be giving you puppy-dog eyes if you could see him.

You can’t help but laugh, the initial panic leaving your body. You must’ve looked petrified, and you’re a little mad he scared you so badly.

“You’ll have to make it up to me,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie’s head cocks to one side, sympathetic, playing it up for you. “Of course, sweetheart. And how do I do that?” he asks, stepping slightly closer to you.

He wants a genuine answer, but you find your breath hitching in your throat. Maybe it’s the way his fingers rub circles into your lower back. Maybe it’s the heat radiating from his body onto yours. Maybe it’s the sound of his labored breathing beneath that sweaty mask that's getting to you. You press your thighs together, suddenly feeling too hot for such a cold October day.

And Eddie can see, through the mesh eye cutouts, the way you bite your lip just slightly. He can see the way your lips part but no words come out, the way you tilt your hips closer to his. And he definitely feels the way your fingers hook into the belt-loops on his jeans, drawing him in.

“Oh my god. Are you into this right now?” he asks, voice dripping with his smug attitude. He’s grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat, if only you could see it.

You don’t answer right away, shifting on your feet. You look down, not sure if you have the gumption to tell your boyfriend the god damn Ghostface mask is turning you on right now. You were scared shitless mere minutes ago. But the way your heart pounds now is completely different to the way it had before.

“Shut up….” you mumble, your face growing incredibly warm.

“You are so fucking into this right now,” he says, laughing as he gets the last word out.

“Okay, if you’re gonna make fun-” you start, drawing your body away. Eddie doesn’t let you finish.

“Waitwaitwait,” he interrupts, pulling you back to him. “I just didn’t expect it, is all,” he reassures, his voice sounding muffled beneath the rubbery material.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, eagerly anticipating his next move. You can't quite bring yourself to act first.

He brings your body flush against his, two fingers gliding up one of your arms, sending chills down your spine. He leans his face close to your ear, his breathing audible. “I won’t judge if you like the mask, baby,” he purrs, his voice deeper now.

His other hand wraps around your waist, palm pressing into your lower back, pushing your crotch against his. You gasp, goosebumps perking up along your arms. Screams erupt from the movie, the final girl running free from her potential killer. It’s comedic, really, how you’re stood here ready to jump the killer’s bones.

Eddie’s hips roll, just slightly, but enough for you to feel the tent in his pants. You let out a shaky breath, your body seeking him out, wanting him to give you more of that friction.

“What is it, babe?” he taunts. “You want me?”

“Eddie…” is all you get out, a breathy little thing, your hands pressed to his chest.

And then he’s pressing you against the wall, hiking one of your legs around his waist, his crotch pressing against your needy core. One big hand comes to wrap around your throat, cold rings soothing the flames that lap at your skin. He squeezes, making you delightfully hazy, pinning you hard against the wall with his body.

“This what you want, baby? Want me to fucking ruin you?” he asks, voice akin to a growl, squeezing your throat yet again.

“P-please,” you mewl, desperate for more. You know you’re soaking through your panties, practically aching for him.

Something about not being able to see him drives you crazy. Relying on just his voice, trying to gauge his tone. You’re writhing beneath him, grinding yourself against him. He’s so hard it has to be painful, you can feel it even through the layer of denim covering his bottom half.

“Oh, she’s so desperate, huh? Pussy needs me, baby? God damn…” he rasps, and you throb for him.

His fingers dig into the meat of your thigh where he holds it, giving it a sharp squeeze. His other hand removes itself from your neck, tugging down the zipper on his jeans. You undo the button for him, just as eager to get his pants down as he is. His cock stands at attention beneath the fabric of his boxers, begging to be touched. He ignores it for the meantime, though, releasing his hold on your leg and letting you drop it. He makes quick work of sliding your leggings and panties down, fingers collecting the honey that drips from you.

Groaning, he brings his fingers to your mouth, prompting you to suck them. You oblige, mouth opening and enveloping his digits. Your tongue swipes over them, tasting yourself and coating them with saliva. And then they’re pulled from your lips, teasing your clit before slipping into your cunt. Your leg wraps around his waist once more, allowing for a better angle. He scissors those two fingers inside of you, his breathing heavy, sounding almost amplified from beneath the mask. Your hips buck forward, forcing his fingers deeper. One hand grips your side, pinning you back against the wall.

“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy, slut,” Eddie barks, words sending sparks right through you.

His fingers curl in a ‘come here’ motion, your body feeling boneless as you try to keep yourself upright. He laughs, a devious thing, clearly satisfied with how pliant you are for him. You can tell how wet you are from the slick sounds coming from every glide of his fingers, your body so desperately craving more of him. He adds a third finger, prying you open even farther with complete ease, grunting as he feels the way you tense around him.

“Eddie,” you gasp, “f-feels so good.”

“I know it does, baby, I know,” he coos, smirking to himself at the way your body writhes beyond your control. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, hm?”

“Yeah, oh god,” you cry, head tipping back as you moan to the ceiling, his fingers pressing so deep inside of you.

He moans despite himself, your cunt completely drenching his fingers. His cock twitches in his boxers, leaks and pleads for you. You’re a little blurry through the eyes of Ghostface, but he can still make out the way your face contorts in pleasure. He loves making you feel like this, loves having you in the palm of his hand.

“My filthy girl, so fuckin’ wet for me all because I put this mask on, is that it? Really gets you going, huh baby?”

He wanted you to like the mask, if he’s honest, and the fact that it’s working on you is driving him up a fucking wall. He needs to be inside of you, needs to fuck you hard and pump you full of his cum before he loses it.

Three fingers slide out of you, squelching slightly as you suddenly clench around nothing. He yanks his boxers down, merely a hindrance to him, his thick cock springing free. You whimper at the sight of it, chewing on your lip as you watch him wrap his hand around the shaft. He pumps himself a few times, lets his pre-cum drip over his fingers, and it makes you ache. You feel like your body is on fire, you need him so bad, white-hot flames licking up your thighs.

A few more pumps and then he’s releasing himself, hoisting you up so both of your legs tangle around him. He grips the meat of your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh the best he can. He lines his cock up just right, your cunt glistening with your arousal. And you want to kiss him so bad, you want to feel your tongue against his and you want him to bite you, to suck bruises into your neck. The fact that you can’t almost makes you crazier, spurring you on more. You can only imagine what his face looks like as he sheathes himself inside of you, can only imagine those perfect parted lips as he sighs blissfully.

His cock pushes through your slick folds until you can feel his balls pressed against you, his thick length fully seated inside of you. It’s such an enticing stretch to fit him, your whole body vibrating with desire. He rocks himself in and out, in and out, letting you get used to his size. Your cunt has already soaked him in your cream, you can see it pooling where his body meets yours.

“Fuuuuuuck baby,” Eddie groans, panting beneath the warmth of the mask. “Such a needy whore for me, god damn. So fucking wet.”

You whine, canting your hips upwards ever so slightly, the tip of Eddie’s cock pressing so deep inside.

“She’s fuckin’ soaking me, angel. This pussy loves me, doesn’t she?” he says, thrusting into you harder now. He sets a quicker pace, holding your weight against the wall with complete ease.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you moan, waves of euphoria rippling through every inch of your body. He’s so deep and so big and so good.

Your nails dig into the skin of his back, clawing at him through his t-shirt as he fucks you like it’s his last opportunity. You can hear grunts and strained whines falling from his lips, breath coming out in spurts from exertion.

“Babe, fuck, can I take this thing off? Need my mouth on you baby,” he pants, hips snapping against yours and making you cry out.

“Yes, yes - fuck Eddie!” you moan, nearly screaming his name.

The mask is whipped off in one swift motion, Eddie’s unruly curls sticking out. His eyes are wild, pupils blown with sheer need, those perfect lips of his so pink and plump. His mouth is on you in an instant, kissing your lips, your jaw, his teeth biting at your neck. He sucks on the delicate skin, unforgiving as you hiss at the sensation. His warm tongue laves over the irritated area, soothing you and sending a shiver down your spine. You roll your hips, needing more from him, needing him in impossible ways.

“Fucking Christ, you’re so desperate for me,” he gets out through heavy breaths, his cock impaling you over and over. His cocky demeanor doesn’t waver, hands squeezing your ass, smirking when you whine at him.

Filthy noises fill the living room, wet smacks as your dripping pussy sucks Eddie back in for more more more. He glances down to where your bodies join, his dick shiny with your juices. Eyelashes flutter as he looks back up at you, pulling your face to his to kiss you harder. His greedy tongue roams your mouth, his lips demanding in the way they move with yours.

Eddie can tell you’re getting close by the way your eyes roll back into your skull, the way your pussy keeps squeezing him so tight. Your brows knit together as you focus on how good he feels, eyes pinching shut.

“Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet girl,” Eddie instructs, fucking you faster. “Look at me when I’m making you feel so good.”

Your eyes open, big and glassy as they plead with him. You’re so ready to snap, your body overwhelmed with pleasure as Eddie abuses your cunt. Your fingers tangle in his hair - something you’d missed while he’d had the mask on - and tug, drawing a throaty groan from him. His balls are slapping against the skin of your ass with each rough thrust, fingers digging so hard into flesh you’re sure you’ll be sore tomorrow.

Those big brown eyes of his are incredibly dark, his lips parted as he watches you slowly unravel right before his eyes. You feel yourself about to tip over the edge, about to let go, and he can see it on your face.

“Gonna cum for me, dirty girl? Little slut’s gonna cum all over my fucking cock?” he taunts you, every single word sending bolts of electricity right to your core.

“Gonna cum so fucking hard, Eddie, oh my god,” you say breathlessly, eyes fluttering to a close as you reach your peak.

You’re delirious as you cum, your walls squeezing Eddie so fucking tight. Strings of curse words are falling from his lips as he chases his own release, drawing it closer and closer as you completely soak him. Movements get sloppy, not aided by the slippery mess you’ve created, and Eddie’s breaths grow staggered.

His cock pounds into you one, two, three more times before his hips stutter, hot ropes of cum filling you. You can just barely feel the way he twitches inside of you, every last drop of his release pouring out. Both of you settle finally, catching your breath as you come down from your highs. Eddie sets you down, your feet hitting the ground once more. Your legs feel like rubber, like you might crumple to the floor if it weren’t for the fact that he’s holding your waist and pulling you in to him.

You look down at the floor, the crumpled mask staring up at you, mouth gaping in a perpetual scream. You’re dizzy with realization of what's just happened.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he says finally, tilting your chin up so your eyes will meet his. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know…” you admit, cheeks growing hot. “Something about that damn mask,” you smirk at him, getting a waggle of his eyebrows in response.

“I can go to the store right now and get more… who do you want next? Michael Myers? Jason?” Eddie jokes, smiling when you scoff at him.

“Just make sure to keep the Ghostface one around, okay?” your shy request has him grinning, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Oh, you’ll be seeing more of him for sure.”

[cameronsprincess]

@babygorewhore sent in this delicious ask, and this concept CONSUMED me. pls pls enjoy this hot ass shit!

CW: 18+ only!!! stepcest, stepbro!jj, obsessed!rafe, unprotected sex, male receiving oral, dirty talk, praise, degrading, threesome, rafe kinda blackmails reader n jj.

daydreams 𓆩♡𓆪 main masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 taglist form

you’d been secretly sleeping with your stepbrother, jj, for a few months. neither one of you could help yourselves, it just sort of happened.

little did you know, kook prince, rafe cameron, was obsessed with you too. and one night plus a little blackmail on rafe’s end (because of course he’d blackmail y’all) was all it took to start a beautiful sexual relationship between you, rafe and your stepbrother.

jj was balls deep inside your sopping wet cunt, his harsh breaths and the sound of skin slapping against skin bounced off the small walls of your bedroom. “takin’ me so fuckin’ good, princess. my little step sis is a dirty fuckin’ whore for me, aren’t you?”

your brain was fuzzy. loud, pornographic moans slipped freely from you. jj continued his brutal assault on your overstimulated pussy, both of you none the wiser that rafe had managed to make his way into your house. rafe stood in the doorway of your bedroom, watching the scene in front of him in awe. he thought something was wrong with him, because he should be disgusted that you’re fucking your step brother, but instead, he was completely fucking aroused.

he’d clear his throat, loud enough to halt jj’s brutal thrusts, both of your heads whipping in the direction of your bedroom door. jj scrambles off of you, falling to the floor beside your bed. you quickly sit up, pulling your sheet up and over your body, covering yourself from rafe’s intense gaze.

“w-what’re you doing in here?” you’d ask, voice shaking as you watched rafe from across the room.

he’d smirk, pushing his shoulder off the doorway and stalking toward you. “i came to try and get a taste of the sweetest pussy in the obx, but i see you’ve already let your step brother have a hit,” he’d pause right in front of you, large hand reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before tsking, “don’t look at me like that, baby. i can keep a secret… if you let me join.”

your eyes would widen in shock, gaze flitting down and seeing the outline of rafe’s hard cock through his khakis.

“i-” you’d begin, but jj hops up and cuts you off.

“what’s to say we let you join but you still run your fuckin’ mouth? kooks can’t be trusted.”

your eyes dart between the two tall, muscular men. you’re not sure how this would end, but the way it does end, was at the very bottom of your list.

rafe assures you both that he wouldn’t tell a soul if the two of you let him join you tonight, and any other night he pleased. jj — being stubborn and hesitant at first — finally agrees.

you find yourself laid horizontally on your bed, jj’s cock mercilessly pounding in and out of your slick cunt, while rafe’s cock is shoved down your throat. tears fill your eyes at the immense amount of pleasure you feel.

“god damn, maybank, who knew your step sister was such a dirty fucking slut? takin’ my dick like a goddamn champ, baby.”

jj would smirk, his thumb finding your swollen clit and applying firm pressure as he rubbed harsh circles around it.

“she’s good at swallowing dick, but just wait til you feel this sweet fucking cunt wrapped around your cock, you’ll never find anyone like her.”

they’d both switch off, taking turns fucking your throat and pussy the entire night, only stopping when you’re a brainless, boneless heap in your bed. you’d smile contentedly when jj and rafe place soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks, whispering, “sleep tight princess, you’re in for another long night tomorrow.”

hehehehe oh lord this shit just flowed out of meeee. i’m obsessed with rafe x reader x jj <3

[wosostories]

Pranks

Prompt: Can you do a uswnt x teen reader, where reader gets hurt when someone pulls a prank on her or something like that?

Sonny pulls Y/N in to the aftermath of a prank and it doesn't go as planned.

You were heading back to your room from a meeting with coach. You had been told that you were going to be starting in tomorrow's game. You were so excited that you didn’t notice Sonnett running down the hallway. 

“Y/N watch out!” She calls out right before she runs into you. You wobble a little but she steadies you before you hit the ground. “Sorry! Got to run.” She is about to take off again down the hallway. “Actually, I could use you.” Sonny grabs your hand and drags you down the hallway behind her. 

“Why are we running? What did you do?” You ask her. 

“There is no reason for the running. I didn't do anything. Why would you even ask that?” Sonny responds. 

“Sonny, get back here!” You hear Kelley yell from down the hallway. 

“Did you prank Kelley?”

“Maybe?”

“Becky told you that you aren’t allowed to drag me into your prank wars. And I think that this constitutes dragging me.”

“I may be dragging you, but this is not a prank war so not breaking Beckys rules.”

You turn a corner and are all of a sudden heading down a set of stairs. Sonnett’s grip around your wrist made it impossible to get out of it without hurting yourself. 

“Can you let me go please. I was on my way to get ready for dinner. I am already running late.”

“You're fine, we can just go to dinner right now.” You are keeping up with Sonny until the final bit on the first floor. You trip over one of the stairs and let out a yelp as you fall down the final few stairs. You fall into Sonny and you both tumble to the ground in a heap. 

“Sonny! Y/N!” Kelley calls from the flight of stairs above you. This draws the attention of some of the other girls who are waiting in the meal room which is next door to the staircase. 

In a second they were at the bottom of the stairs as Sonnett peels herself off the floor. 

“Oh God, Y/N! Are you ok?” You let out a groan clutching your wrist to your chest. 

“Sonnett what did you do?” Becky all but yells. 

“I- I didn’t…” 

Ali came running in with the team doctor. 

“Y/N can you sit up for me?” The medic asked. She helped you into a sitting position leaning up against the wall. She took your hand into her own and started poking it in different spots. 

The rest of the girls turned back to Sonnett and Kelley knowing that you were in good hands. They were berating them as the medic made her assessment. 

You let out a cry and tears start streaming down your face as she continues her assessment. “I think it's broken. We need to get you to the hospital for x-rays and casting.”

“A- am I still going to be able to start tomorrow?” You ask through your tears. All of your teammates went silent waiting for the answer. 

The medic sighed, “It’s not the end of the world, you will have another opportunity to start. You are only 16.” 

“Y/N I’m so sorry.” You shake your head and let the medic help you to your feet. Her and Ali help you out of the hotel to head to the hospital. 

“You’re the one who is going to tell coach why Y/N can’t start tomorrow. And the part you played in it.” Becky told her. 

Sonnett nodded tears in her own eyes, “I hope you think pulling her into the prank was worth it.” Kelley said, walking past her leaving Sonny alone as the team made their way back to the meal room to wait on news of Y/N wrist. 

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hi hello! Idk if your request is currently open or not, but I'd like to request a fic where the Reader is a member of the Smiling Critters, they're still alive due to Catnap's fondness of them. They're on his side but hate it, only doing it in exchange that Dogday wouldn't get hurt.

With Catnap's permission, they would visit Dogday and give him whatever food they could find ( let's say Catnap still has some fondness for Dogday inside of him ) but with limitations.

You can change the idea into how you prefer! Thank you in advance :D

Ps. Mind adding a scene where Dogday calls the Reader " Angel " and reminisces about Catnap's fondness for both of them? I hope it makes sense, I just melt seeing Dogday calling us Angel :'D

Here We Stay

Note || KSJSJSJD I loved writing this, everything makes sense :D My apologies I took so long to write this! Kinda short too but UUHHHHH-

WC || 1,176

Sypnosis || being a member of the Smiling Critters meant you would’ve died one way or another, but you didn’t. Now all you can do is hope for the best.

One of the worst possible things could be corporate greed, even just having good intentions yet the worst execution is a plausible answer. Just how could you be forced into this situation? Trying to make things worth Catnap’s while is harsh, the only reason you knew you were alive right now was merely because he was particularly fond of you and DogDay alike. He wasn’t the same after the fact the Prototype’s reign began, you weren’t aware of much yourself, so all of this was just plain scary to you.

All your friends just disappeared and died, some of which you didn’t know was happening. You only got all that information because of DogDay.

You hated the circumstance he was put in, it seemed so painful for one’s legs to be severed and just hung up there the way he is now.

Repeatedly however, DogDay has assured you he didn’t mind being like this so long as you were in good health. He couldn’t bear knowing he wouldn’t be able to do a single thing for one of the only friends he has left. So many of his friends were gone already, DogDay would elect to die for you if it meant you would live.

Truth be told, you had only exchanged the peace you had before so that DogDay would not get hurt anymore then he already has. Catnap had full will and the power to completely end your life otherwise, you just were scared. 

Sometimes when you could, you would take a look at the broken clock that had somehow still worked like normal–and think about what time it would be in the day–Is it nighttime? How about daytime. Oh how you wished you weren’t subject to things the way they are now, all because of the wretched rules of humans and even the abject rulings of the Prototype himself.

Why would Catnap even view that silly toy as a god anyway? Perhaps that was for him to know, and for you to find out. Once, your life isn’t in any danger any longer. Just maybe it will be possibly any hour now, one can only hope. 

Trying to scrounge the Factory for any possible food was getting harder and harder every hour, one could argue it may be the stupid little mice stealing those last precious crumbs away. You would argue it would be the little Wuggies, those small toys were objectively brisk–and limpid too (colors so closely related within the walls of the factory, you forget sometimes they are even there).

You try hard to not forget where you are, in order to get back to DogDay with food for him. That was the only reason you were even anywhere else and away from your sunny friend, you would still be close to him any chance you get on account of Catnap’s permission. 

You wished otherwise.

“Ugh!” Groaning, you step over the possible weak spots that would have you falling through the floor. “There has to be food around here somewhere..” You mention, notioning to the fact you had now stepped into an office. There would be bound to be food here!

With an ounce of hope, you began scrounging the office for any possible heaps of food that you find. Ruffling through any drawers and papers, this office seemed to be a mess. You paid no mind to the messes anyway, there are bound to be messes since the last ten years in Playtime Co. 

“Success! Haha!” You triumphantly hold a bundle of donuts in your hand, “Take that Hour of Joy!” 

Winding down from your self inflated permeated success, you began making your way back to DogDay. You’d have to speak to Catnap to get to him first unfortunately, you always hated this part. Nonetheless, it was necessary.

You picked up the phone, already dialing Catnap to inform him of current conditions. You carefully had curated your words, you always did this when you spoke to him which ever way.

His deep voice rumbled soundly in your ears, “Food, for him?” 

“Yes.” You silently groan, kicking a benign rock stubble as you stand around while awaiting his confirmation. Why the hell was he so scary to you? Though, Catnap’s voice was oddly reassuring when he spoke without malcontent. For a moment, there was a long pause. 

You swore you could hear someone screaming and pleading to the giant purple cat; you felt bad for the unlucky victim that had crossed paths with Catnap.

“...” Then the phone hung up, you sighed a breath of relief that you could visit DogDay. Many things you would do for him just aside visiting, was having to loop in Catnap on whatever the contents of the material you would bring in hand with you. You knew the cat well enough his pause of silence meant yes. 

Well, you can go now at least. You don’t even want to recount the last time you had brought something to DogDay without telling Catnap. 

You stepped over the rubble that had led up to the heretic altar, you recognize he is one of the many dubbed a heretic, you truly wished he wasn’t in so much pain this way. Though immediately another thought crossed your mind.

This hallway needed some serious cleaning up to do.

A strained voice pulled you from your thoughts, “You didn’t have to bring anything my friend.” DogDay was being positive about you as per usual, you sighed as you stepped up to him then sat down as your legs were weary and tired. 

“DogDay we are friends, I’d do anything for you.” You motion, taking out a donut so you could feed it to him. Though in a rare few circumstances you were allowed to free DogDay’s hands so he could eat himself. Unfortunately it was not one of those circumstances. He took a willing bite, chewing it up as he savored it. 

For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to articulate anything, “Do you, remember how he was before… Angel?” DogDay was still mournfully thinking about Catnap’s old self, which he had every right to do. Knowing someone for as long as you would, then that someone changing so drastically–especially not in a good way–can be startling. 

You fed him another bite of the donut you held in your hand, “How could I forget? He was quite silent, sure enough. But he was always considering each and every one of us.” You nod with a tilted head. Oh, if you had the chance to turn back the clock and change things, you would’ve done it all in a heartbeat. 

Sincerely, you were scared. Scared for Catnap, scared for DogDay. All your possibly living friends you know are still alive. 

You grin slightly, wanting to alleviate the conversation and change the subject, “You might need a cleaning.” DogDay couldn’t help but bark–reminiscent of laughter–at your words. He shifted himself noticeably, most likely to bear the weight from one end to another. And remove the discomfort for a little bit before it would dare come back. 

“You may be right, my angel.”

"One can only hope."

[bamboobooshark]

“More Dad!/CG logan fics” we all say in unison! (Please and ty :)) im so obsessed with how cute they are 🥹)

LOGAN HOWLETT X LITTLE!READER

⋆｡𖦹°‧🎞️ GOOD AS NEW : 905 WRDS

<RATING: PG, MINOR SCRATCH/BLOOD MENTION>

A/N : Here’s another CG!/Dad!Logan fic with some inspiration from cloudbug08, and a request from an Anonny (THANK U SM FOR THE REQUEST 💗) I love bug’s headcanons for CG!Logan heaps, so I included his headcanon of Logan calling you kit :] !!Warning for a minor injury (knee scrape) and a few mentions of blood!!

You and Logan were strolling hand in hand through Walmart. He decided to let you pick out a new stuffie since you haven’t been misbehaving all week. You squeeze Logan’s hand in excitement causing him to chuckle under his breath and smile. The second you spot the section of the store that holds the stuffed animals, you squeal with excitement and run over to the aisle while pulling on Logan’s hand. “C’mon, papa! I wanna get a stuffie! Hurry,” you whine while pulling on his hand. He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, bub. I’m trying to stay up with you, but you’ve got too much energy for me to keep up with,” he says. You pout at him, letting go of his hand to cross your arms against your chest. He raises his eyebrows while giving you a look that tells you to watch yourself. “Hey now, kid. Don’t get pouty on me. You gotta remember we’re only here because you behaved all week. That could change right now if you don’t drop it,” he says with a gentle voice that still gets the point across. You immediately quit pouting, dropping your arms to your side and reattaching yourself to Logan. “That’s my little kit,” he coos as he brings his hand up to your head and cups your jaw in his palm. You let out a small chirp from his praises, always accepting the sweet words. “Now let’s get you a new friend,” he says, petting the back of your head and walking over to the aisle filled with soft toys.

You and Logan are on his motorcycle now, making your way home. Your new stuffie is secured tightly in your backpack. Your arms squeeze tightly around Logan’s waist. Your body presses against the leather of his bomber jacket, the strong scent of it filling your senses greatly. Your helmet presses against his back while your knees press into him. “We’re almost home, bubs,” he tells you while waiting for the light you’re at to turn green. You nod against him to let you know you heard him.

The two of you arrive home shortly after, Logan pulling into the garage and parking his bike. He gets off first, shaking his head and fixing his hair. He takes your helmet off and smiles at you. “Look at that smile. God, you are too cute,” he compliments while holding out his hand for you to hold. You giggle from his compliment and take his hand. Unfortunately, you trip over your own feet, falling and scraping your knee. From your position on the floor you look up at Logan. “Papa,” you whine as tears brim in your eyes. Logan bites the inside of his cheek and scoops you into his arms. “Oh, baby. Please don’t cry. It’s alright. You’re alright. Just breathe for me, kid,” he pleads before peppering your face with kisses. Your tears stream out of your eyes against your will. Your wrists press against your eyelids as you try your best to wipe away the tears. “Sorry papa,” you mumble pitifully. Logan begins to carry you inside while reassuring you that everything’s okay, you did nothing wrong, you have nothing to apologize for.

He sets you down on the couch and looks you over, kneeling to check for any damage done caused by the trip. “Are you hurt, kid? I need you to use your words so papa can help you,” he says while softly pressing his hands against you. “My knee hurts. I think I scratched it,” you hiccup through tears. He nods and moves his hand to your knee, moving the fabric away from your skin. “Awe. You poor thing,” he says at your knee, kissing to slightly scratched flesh. “We gotta patch you up so you don’t get a yucky infection,” he tells you. He pats your thigh before getting up and going to the bathroom so he can clean you up.

He returns with some cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and a piece of candy. “Let’s get you cleaned up, kiddo,” he says with a grunt as he settles onto the ground again. You hold you new stuffie tightly in your arms while biting your lip anxiously in anticipation of pain, watching Logan put some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball. “This is gonna sting a little bit,” he warns. He offers his hand to you and you quickly take it. Despite the fact you’re squeezing his hand so hard that your knuckles turn white, he keeps a straight face. He pats the cotton ball against the slightly bloodied skin causing you to whimper in pain. “Papa,” you whine softly as your tears come back to run down your cheeks. “I know, bub. I know. You got this. You’re my brave little kit, ain’t ya,” he asks with a soft smile, squeezing your hand softly. You continue to cry and nod your head in agreement to his question. Before you know it, he’s done cleaning up your knee. It looks so much better; less red and no longer bleeding. He smiles up at you as you pull him against you tightly. He chuckles as his face is squished against your stomach, feeling his heart melt from the affection. “Good as new, kit. Good as new,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and allowing you to mess with his hair and show your thanks with physical love.

[wasawattpadkid]

Drunk Antics

Summary: When Billy and Stu have a little too much to drink they come to you.

Pairing: poly!ghostface (college au) x fem!reader

Warnings: Nothing really just fluff and angst. Drunk Billy and Stu

The pounding on your dorm door was bound to wake up everyone in a 5 mile radius. "What the hell-" Billy and Stu hit the floor in a heap of giggles. "Told you she was home fuckrag." A tiny hiccup could be heard coming from Stu. "How did you two even get in here?" You questioned helping the men up. "A magician never tells his secrets Y/n." Stu's words were slurred and his legs were shaky. You closed the door telling them both to sit down. Thankfully Stu listened falling back on your roommates bed. "I'm gonna be sick..." Stu groaned.

"No no no, no you're not." You grabbed a trash can running to his aid. "I'm kidding!" He giggled his hiccups getting worse. Billy tossed his hair back dancing around the room. "I was thinking of you tonight..." Stu said dragging his hand down the middle of your shirt. You laughed dryly. "Oh yeah I bet you were. You know you smell like perfume Stu." You weren't pissed just disappointed. "We robbed a perfume store." Billy laughed at his partners answer.

"Dance with me Y/n." Billy tugged at your clothes trying to pull you to him. "Babe you reek of Jack Daniels." Billy's lips made contact with your neck biting and sucking the skin he found. "Oh no, not tonight. You are both way too drunk." You pushed him back just enough to see his splotchy red face. The tip of his nose bright red making him look like Rudolph. "I didn't have near as much as he did." He pointed to the unconscious man on the bed. "Fuck." You left Billy standing to roll Stu on his side just in case.

"He'll be fine. I didn't drug him this time." You whipped your head towards your boyfriend. "What!?" You whisper yelled and he just laughed. "Kidding! If making a joke is a crime arrest me." He held out his hands connected by the wrist. "As much as I'd love to see you in handcuffs not tonight Billy, I said no." He rolled his eyes stomping his foot like a toddler. "Jesus how much did you drink tonight?"

You helped him out of his leather jacket flinging it to the side of the room. "Slow down there my girlfriend kills people." He slurred and you laughed. His knuckles were slightly bloody which is something you'd definitely have to bring up tomorrow. "We need to get you into bed." He rubbed his hands together once again thinking he was about to get lucky. He sat down on the bed letting you pull off his shoes. The next thing to go was his shirt. "You're very beautiful at this angle." When he was drunk his charm was on high. "Thanks." You didn't even bother with his jeans. "Now lay back."

Billy did as told waiting for you to climb in with him. "Where you going?" He asked his pout could be heard in his voice. "I'm checking on Stu." You sighed hating being a babysitter. "And I don't want the world to see me!" Billy loudly began singing making you jump. "Cause I don't think that they'd understand." He was your drama queen. "With everything meant to be broken." You were 100% sure those weren't the lyrics. He mumbled the next line tears now forming in his eyes. "Babe don't.. aww." He held out his arms like a toddler pulling you on top of him.

Your head laid on top of his chest as his arms squeezed you. "Promise you won't leave us." He whispered. The sound of his voice broke your heart. "Where is this coming from?" A whimper left his throat. "Just promise." You sighed. "I promise Billy." With that his heart rate slowed and he began to fall asleep. Thank God your roommate went home for the weekend.

"Y/n?" Stu whispered from the other bed. You closed your eyes preparing for more antics. "Yes babe?" Silence. "Yes babe?" You repeated. Nothing. "Stu!" You whispered gaining his attention. "Hmm?" He mumbled. "What'd you want?" You asked ready to help him to the bathroom or trash can. "I don't know you called me." You took a moment before you laughed with pity. "Your head is going to kill you tomorrow."

"If it doesn't you will." He muttered falling back asleep. "Damn straight." You smiled as you cuddled up with Billy.

[theartistisme43]

TW: GUNS AND VIOLENCE

Chapter One: The Worst Can Happen Faster Than A…

BANG!

The sudden sound of a gunshot and a thud filled SMG3’s already ringing ears, cutting through his unresponsive state like a knife as it brought him back to reality hard.

His crimson eyes refocused, and widened as they were downcast towards his feet, his feet that were speckled with red… Not red, he realized, blood…

SMG3 followed the peppered liquid with his eyes, from his shoes, to the floor… to…

…

SMG4…

The blue meme guardian’s back was against the kitchen counter, tomato soop laying in a heap next to his foot. 4’s terrified yet bloodshot eyes pierced into 3, quiet sounds of pain escaping him as an ugly bullet wound was buried deep in his upper right pectoral, right where his shoulder and torso met. His overalls were ruined now, the right strap being damaged by the gunshot as well.

SMG4 couldn’t bring himself to say anything as the adrenaline was wearing off…

The clicking of metal distracted SMG3, and his own terrified eyes looked down to see a smoking gun in his hands. A sharp gasp escaped him as he dropped it to the floor with a clatter.

Nausea and panic overcame SMG3 as he realized what he had done, he truly, actually, shot his ex rival. It wasn’t a nightmare, it was real, and SMG4’s blood caked his hands.

4’s glazed eyes slowly looked past him, at something behind him… 3 didn’t turn around, he couldn’t bring himself to.

A horrible sound came from his throat as he tried to force himself to speak, only managing a few sharp breaths before he finally used his voice.

“…M-m…ario…”

That was it, and 4 finally passed out, falling onto the ground as blood leaked onto it from his wound.

When he did, SMG3 somehow got himself to turn, looking back to see the shocked face of Mario, that face quickly turning into one of devastation.

“SMG4!!” Mario screamed out, with more emotion than 3 had ever heard from him.

The plumber in red quickly ran to his friend, kneeling beside him as 4’s blood stained his gloves as he brought him close.

“Wh-what happened?! Who did this to you?!” Mario cried out, soon being shocked into silence as his eyes were laid upon the gun next to 3’s foot.

Those eyes that were full of panic were soon clouded by betrayal and hatred as he bore into SMG3 mercilessly.

“…You….” Mario hissed, the rage in his voice was enough to make anyone run for the hills.

“YOU DID THIS!”

“I-I- I didn’t…” SMG3’s own voice was failing him as he slowly backed away towards the door.

The door that was open.

“Oh my god! SMG4!” Meggy shoved past him as she ran to join her brothers.

Meggy hurriedly pulled out her phone, shakily dialing 911 as she took in 4’s injuries with panicked breaths.

An operator seemingly got back to her as she tried her best to help 4. “My friend’s been shot! Please send an ambulance right away! There’s a bullet in his left pectoral and…”

Meggy took notice of the gun like Mario did, what was once panic was now rage as she found her shaky voice again.

“…The person who shot him is a man wearing purple, he’s got red eyes and facial hair and…”

Meggy’s description of SMG3 to the police went unheard as he began hyperventilating, making a run for it out of the castle. As he did, Eggman watched, stunned… Then pleased.

3 couldn’t go to his cafe, that place would be dangerous to return to in a moment, now that the police knew of him… He could never go back.

The forest was his best option, it went on for miles and was pretty much barren, the only things living out here were wild animals and the occasional meme.

That’s exactly where he went, making sure to zigzag so he wouldn’t be headed in a straight line and easier to find.

SMG3 ran until his feet hurt, falling to his knees when he couldn’t run anymore. As he panted heavily, droplets of water fell onto his gloves, causing him to reach up to his cheek.

3 was crying.

He couldn’t fight his emotions and gave in as a strong feeling of guilt came over him, he ruined everything with SMG4 and his friends just because Eggman got in his head!

3 sobbed hard, punching the ground.

As he gave into his anguish, there was a thought in the back of his mind.

“Now, now… Pick yourself up, you crybaby. There’s so much more for you to do.”

3 glared, not giving into the thought.

“Get up and stand, wimp. You finally took out your rival!” The thought declared. “This is something you wanted for years, and now that you finally have it, you’re going to cry about it!?”

SMG3 glared through the tears, “I never wanted this…”

The thought… Chuckled?…

“Damn right you didn’t.” It said with an air of malice. “I did.”

3’s mind went black as he went into an unresponsive state again.

“I’m sorry… I have to do this.” 3 heard his own voice speaking… But he wasn’t saying that!

…Was he?

The sound of an ambulance’s doors slamming shut echoed as a stretcher carrying SMG4 was unloaded, Mario and Meggy had hopped in to accompany their friend as they followed the paramedics inside.

SMG4 had been unconscious the second they found him, but they both could tell he was in pain from his wound. There was no shit about that… it hurt to look at.

The medics kept pressure on it to stop the bleeding as nurses joined them and took SMG4 into the emergency room, where Meggy and Mario won’t be allowed to follow. Mario tried so hard to go after him, but Meggy had to hold him back.

As she did, a familiar group came running in. Their friends…

“Meggy!” Saiko cried. “We’re here!”

Luigi ran over to them, and embraced his brother and sister, who hugged back.

“fratello, sorella, mi dispiace tanto…” He muttered. “You told us that SMG3… Sh-shot 4… Did he really?”

“I saw the gun next to his foot.” Mario said, his voice so cold that it made everyone shudder. “He-a dropped it when I came in.”

“I can’t believe it…” Boopkins muttered, staying close to Bob. “I thought they were friends…”

“Me ToO, LiTtLe BuDdy.” Bob muttered, carefully patting his head to comfort him. “BuT I gUeSs 3 dIdN’t ChAnGe AfTer aLl.”

Saiko growled, “I’m gonna go to that damn café of his and kick his ass!”

“Don’t bother.”

Everyone jumped at Hal Monitor’s voice.

“We checked the place top to bottom, even down to his ‘secret lair’. He’s completely abandoned that place, we’re keeping it under top surveillance if he decides to go back.”

Tari sighed, “This is all so terrible… I hope SMG4 will be okay..”

Meggy rubbed her shoulder to comfort her, “I know that no matter what happens, 4 will probably be scared and confused, we all have to be there for him at least until SMG3 gets locked up for what he’s done.” She glared at Hal. “And he better.”

Hal cowered slightly as they all murmur in agreement.

“We’re gonna do everything we can for him. Right Mario?”

Mario didn’t respond as he looked away from all of them.

Meggy approached him. “…Right Mario?”

Mario turned towards his group of friends, with a look so sinister, so hateful, that nearly everyone paled at the sight of his face.

“He will pay for what he’s done.. No matter what I have to do to make that happen…”

[becca-e-barnes]

Beccaaa, I'm missing darkbestfriend!bucky so much, could you spoil me, please?

Okay, hear me out. I've had SUCH a fantasy recently about those aphrodisiac supplements and how much fun they could be. I've never tried them but I've been looking into them this week and it's on my list of things to do this year 👀

I'm soooo convinced these would be right up darkbestfriend!bucky's street and he'd turn it into a bit of a game.

"Are you sure you want to try these? I don't know if you can handle them. They're pretty intense." He's watching you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, pretty confident he knows your answer before you even say it. "You know what the rules are. We take one each and you have to sit there like a good girl. You can't touch me and I can't touch you. Whoever gives in first loses."

This isn't a game you think you'll be awfully good at but you're happy to lose this one.

"Got it. Give me one." You haven't always been known for your patience but being direct pays off this time. You take a capsule each, chasing it with some water.

The first little while is easy enough. You go back to reading your book and Bucky refocuses his attention on the show he was watching.

It builds slowly. You notice the heat first, originating at the base of your spine, fizzling outwards. Within a few minutes you feel it right to your fingertips but it's still bearable.

Bearable until the dull throb settles deep inside you. You feel your sex tightening and releasing and you've got no control over the flutters of arousal that have taken over your body. Fuck, you're wet. You have no idea how but you can feel it already when you press your thighs together beneath the skirt of your dress.

The heat building in your body creeps higher. You find yourself rereading the same sentence of your book over and over and you still have no idea what the hell it said. You need to cool down. Or touch yourself. Since the latter is banned, you settle for taking your jacket off, laying it neatly on the bed.

"Holy fuck, that's cheating." Bucky sounds more than a little strained, his eyes trained on the exposed neckline of your dress and your bare shoulders. "Fuck it, you win."

Within a second you feel his lips are on yours, his body slotting on top of you and this is exactly what you need. His hand trails up the inside of your thighs, groaning against your lips when he finds what he's looking for.

"Jesus, you soaked through your panties." He can't slow down. Not that you want him to. There's a desperation in you both that you'd quite happily drown in, given the chance.

Your clothes fall into a heap on the floor, along with his and although you've hardly even touched him he's rock hard and throbbing; his tip leaking precum that he smears over the slick folds of your cunt.

It's never felt like this before. You're so sensitive, you can do nothing but whimper. You don't know what you need him to do but you know you need more.

"Bucky please. Oh God, please fuck me. I-I can't..." You press your hips up off the bed, hoping to achieve whatever it is that you need but you have no such luck.

"Is this what you want?" He's overconfident, slapping his length against the softest part of your body, enjoying the obscene sounds.

As soon as you nod, he slides himself into your body, almost sobbing at the feeling of you around him. Despite all his teasing, he's convinced he needed this even more than you did.

The first few thrusts feel insane in the very best way. You can't stop yourself from moaning and you certainly can't help the way you try to meet his hips with your own, ensuring he's as deep inside you as possible.

"You've gotta be quiet, honey. Whole damn street can hear you getting fucked like a desperate slut." He's right but you're surprised he cares. "Open that pretty mouth."

You do as you're told, waiting for him to fill your mouth with his fingers or maybe spit in it but you weren't expecting him to set your own heavy, wet panties on your waiting tongue. "Gonna get you addicted to the way you taste. Just like I am." He keeps his hand clamped over your lips, his hips stuttering while he pumps you full of his cum but that doesn't mean he's finished. Not even close.

[thefallennightmare]

Bad Decisions-Noah Sebastian

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: language, basically all smut, and fluff at the end.

Summary: Noah realizes a little too late that he has a breeding kink.

Authors Note: This was requested awhile ago and I'm hoping whoever requested is still around! Please enjoy this little drabble.

"Shit, Noah. That feels so good," I moaned with my face buried in the pillow.

His grip on my hips was bruising as he thrusted deeper into me from behind. I peered over my shoulder so I could get a better look at him and nearly orgasmed at the sight. Sweat gathered at his forehead and over the tattoo's of his chest. The muscles in his arms flexed as he gripped me even tighter while his stomach contracted when his cock pulsed inside of me, a sign that he was close.

"Angel, you're so tight," Noah groaned as he leaned over my back, his lips brushing over the previous bite marks he left their earlier.

I pushed myself farther back into him, needing the head of the cock to slam into that spot. The bed slammed against the wall, legs scraping across the floor, when Noah's pace became faster almost erratic.

"Yes, fuck," I panted, my body falling onto the bed in a heap when he finally hit that spot.

His tattooed arm snaked around my stomach to lift me to my knees once again then his hand slithered down to my clit, finger brushing over it. My lips parted, a silent moan falling from them, and I felt my pussy clench against the hardness of his cock when he pulsed inside me.

Shit, he was so close.

"No-Noah," his name stammered from my lips.

The sex was so good that I was in such a lust filled haze, I almost forgot we had no kind of protection. We didn't mean to have sex tonight but when Noah walked downstairs wearing nothing but those short, black swim trunks so we could go hang out in the hot tub, I threw him onto the couch while straddling his hips. That's where we started, where my swimsuit lay scattered, but being afraid of one of the guys coming home to find us there, Noah carried me up the stairs to his room over his shoulder.

"Angel, I'm going to-," his hips stilled for a moment, cock throbbing between the warm confines of my pussy.

"Do it."

When I looked over my shoulder again, I noticed his eyes were so dark, almost black as he bore them into me. His hair was falling into his face but he didn't dare let go of his grip on my hips to brush it back.

"Are you sure?"

His voice was quiet, almost unsure if he heard me right.

I nodded rapidly. "Please Noah, fill me up."

A low, savage, noise came from the back of his throat as his hips moved again, only this time it was in long, slow strokes.

"You'd like that, angel. You want me to fill you up with my cum?" Noah bit down on my shoulder.

I hissed out in pleasure. "Oh gods, yes. Please."

He hastily pulled out of me only to forced me onto my back, the silver chain that hung loosely around his neck now grazing over my nose and mouth. I stared up at him through my lashes and Noah yanked my legs up to my chest, knees pressing deep into my skin.

"Eyes on me," he grunted, slamming his cock into me again.

My screams echoed throughout the tiny room as I kept my eyes directly on him, the bright orange hum of the LED lights in his room cast Noah in such an angelic glow I couldn't help but give him a fond smile.

"I love you," I mused.

"I love you too, angel." He bent his lips down to mine, capturing them in a tender kiss, nothing like the brutal force of his cock. "Now touch yourself and cum on my cock."

Yes, sir.

My fingers shakily brushed over my swollen clit and as the pace of them was messy and hurried, I felt myself crawling closer to my release. Noah could tell because his head fell back, exposing the tattoos on his neck to me, and I attacked them with savage bites followed by soothing licks.

"I can't wait to fill you up and watch your belly get round with my babies," he panted.

Oh, hell yes.

I mewled in response, mouth busy with leaving dark marks across his neck.

"Fuck, you'd look so beautiful pregnant with my kid. Your belly round and tits-oh shit." Noah's cock twitched inside of me.

"Noah, fuck a baby into me. Please," I brushed my nose along his chin.

It wasn't like we weren't in a great position to have a kid, if something happened from this. We'd been together for years and talked about a future together often.

"Anything for you, angel," Noah groaned, burying his cock deep as his warm cum shot along my walls.

My own orgasm washed over me in waves, his name falling from my lips in a prayer, praising him for giving me what I wanted. He stayed like that for a few long moments, making sure I took every last drop of him before he somehow rolled both of us around, so I was lying on his chest, him on his back. The wetness I felt between my legs was almost a new feeling with his cum dripping down my leg and I breathed in the scent of him.

Silence fell between us, the only sound coming from the guys moving around downstairs, and as I felt the exhaustion of the long day creep into my bones, I let my eyes flutter shut until Noah's deep voice woke me.

"I never thought the idea of you pregnant would be so fucking hot," he chuckled then brushed a kiss along my forehead.

I giggled while wrapping my arm righter around him. "I'm honestly surprised it took us this long. We've always talked about having kids."

"I figured we would wait until Bad Omens slowed down a bit and we would get married first."

"When have we ever done anything the traditional way?" I peered up at him with a raised brow.

Noah agreed with a kiss. "Well, if it doesn't work this time we'll have to keep trying."

I patted his chest, a yawn escaping my lips. "Let me get some sleep first."

Two months and many times later, I held up a positive test to Noah, who had the brightest smile plastered over his face.

[suitkive]

✩ just swinging by — k.yh

pairing. yoohyeon (dreamcatcher) x fem reader

summary. ever since the mysterious web-swinging spider-woman first collapsed on your balcony by accident after a long night out fighting crime, she keeps coming back around with thank-you gifts and excuses to see you—and you slowly start to find yourself falling for the clumsy, kindhearted girl behind the mask.

info. college au, yoohyeon as spider-woman

warnings. swearing, blood/injury

word count. 4.6k (oops)

(a/n) insp. this moodboard i made a while ago :D

of all the things you were expecting to happen to you on a typical sunday night, the sudden appearance of a masked vigilante at your balcony was most certainly not one of them.

alright, rewind a bit. a CRASH jolts you awake in the middle of the night—though really it's morning, according to the glowing red digits on your alarm clock that read 3:49 AM—and you nearly fall out of your bed because that was loud, what the hell?

nerves running high and any remnants of sleep completely shaken out of your body, you get out of bed and slowly open your bedroom door only to be met with a blast of frigid night air. you blink a few times, just to make sure you're not seeing things.

"what the fuck," you say out loud.

your balcony door is gone.

no, wait—it's broken. shards of glass are everywhere, and there's a giant gaping hole where the sliding door used to be. and lying crumpled in a heap on the floor in front of it…

you fumble for the light switch, something you probably should've done as soon as you opened the door. the sight that greets you when the light turns on makes you wonder if you're still dreaming, because this can't actually be happening.

there is a superhero on your balcony.

and she's bleeding all over your carpet.

"oh my god—" you hurriedly rush over to get a better look. red-and-blue spandex that's torn in several places, a trail of spiderwebs clinging to her wrists, a large spider symbol printed on the front and back of her suit… it's spider-woman. spider-woman just crashed through your balcony door.

and she's bleeding. on your carpet.

"okay," you mumble, trying to think. at least the fresh night air coming from the massive hole in your balcony door does well to invigorate you. "okay, okay, i need to do something… oh god, my landlord is gonna be so pissed at me—"

the body on the floor lets out a weak groan, and you quickly kneel down next to her. "hello? are—are you okay?"

with great difficulty, the girl struggles to lift up her head. her mask obscures the entirety of her face, so you have a hard time telling whether or not she's fully conscious.

"…ow," she croaks out at last, and then her head falls back to the floor with a thunk. seconds later, her chest begins to slowly rise and fall. a soft snoring sound emits from her mask.

you take a deep breath. okay. you can deal with this.

so here you are almost three hours later, nursing a cup of much-needed coffee as you stare contemplatively at the now-bandaged but still-snoring superhero laid out on the couch in front of you. you had done your best to clean and treat her wounds with your limited medical knowledge (and the suspiciously well-stocked first aid kit that your weird roommate handong keeps in the cupboard), so now you're just waiting for her to wake up. which is taking way too long.

the clock on the coffee table reads 6:15 AM, and you glumly swish around the cold dregs of your morning coffee. it's almost time for you to leave for your 6:30 chemistry class, but it looks like spider-woman is still completely out of it.

after pacing around the kitchen of your tiny apartment for five more minutes, you impulsively grab a post-it note and scribble down a message for spider-woman to see when she wakes up. thankfully your roommate is literally never home, so there's no chance of anyone coming in here and discovering the superhero conked out on your couch.

you sign your name at the bottom of the note and stick it to spider-woman's forehead, hoping she'll be alright. as for your balcony door… thinking about how much it's going to cost to install a new one gives you a headache, so you just stick a large sheet of cardboard over the opening and resolve to take care of it as soon as you get home.

"this has been a very, very weird morning," you say out loud, because nothing about this feels real.

(then again, the tedious hours you spent cleaning up bits of glass from the floor and picking the webs off of spider-woman's suit definitely felt pretty real.)

you throw one last glance at the sleeping heap on your couch before you leave, only hoping that your life will get back to normal after today.

yoohyeon wakes up disoriented, aching all over, and with the horrifying realization that she has most definitely slept past all five of her monday morning alarms.

she blinks sleepily, slowly processing her surroundings. she's lying on a couch, someone has bandaged her wounds and swaddled her in blankets, yubin probably, she's an angel and the best guy in the chair yoohyeon could ever ask for and… whoa, wait a minute.

this isn't her apartment.

with that horrifying realization, yoohyeon sits straight up and whips her head around in a panic. her surroundings are entirely unfamiliar, and she's about to call yubin before remembering that yubin is unreachable right now—away on some sort of top-secret mission that's supposed to last, like, three months. yoohyeon groans. why am i actually the worst superhero ever?

then she realizes that there's something stuck to her forehead and reaches up to find a neon green sticky note with some writing on it, which she slowly reads through with a good deal of trepidation.

hey, you crashed into my apartment last night—you were unconscious but i didn't see your face, don't worry! i fixed up your injuries as best i could but now i need to leave for class, so i hope you'll be okay when you wake up. just remember to put the cardboard back over the balcony door so birds won't fly in or anything :)

phew. so yoohyeon's secret identity hasn't been leaked, that's a relief… but she essentially broke into an innocent civilian's apartment, which she doesn't exactly feel great about. i need to make this right.

"oh, wait—" yoohyeon realizes something and jumps to her feet, the blankets falling around her. "shit, i'm late for class!"

you're dutifully taking notes as the professor drones on about chemical equations, though you're struggling to stay focused—seriously, who decided that 6:30am classes on a monday was a good idea?—when suddenly the doors to the lecture hall burst open and a girl runs in, flushed and panting heavily.

"i am so sorry," she wheezes, bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. "i overslept…"

the professor sighs and waves off her apology. "don't let it happen again," he says sternly, then continues his lecture.

you cast the girl a curious glance as she shuffles shamefully to an empty seat and starts unpacking her things. she's tall and lanky, with long two-toned hair tied in a haphazard ponytail and glasses that she has to push back up when they start to slip down her face. you make eye contact for a brief moment, then you resume paying attention to the professor without giving the encounter too much thought.

after classes end, you go back to your apartment to find the place superhero-less. the blankets are folded messily on the couch and there's a small tear in the cardboard that's covering the opening in your balcony, as if someone was in a hurry to leave.

you shrug off your bags with a sigh and go to dial up your landlord.

almost a week passes without further incident. you get your balcony door replaced so it's like nothing ever happened, and your life is just starting to get back into the usual swing of things when spider-woman shows up at your balcony again.

a thump is what wakes you up prematurely this time—it's literally 5am which is way too early for a saturday morning of all days—and you groggily stumble out of your bedroom, fearing the worst. you know it can't be a burglar since you live on the seventh floor, so there's only one person it could be…

luckily, the glass door is fully intact when you pull back the curtains to check. however, there is currently a superhero lying curled in a ball on your balcony. a very familiar superhero wearing a red-and-blue suit with a spider symbol on it.

"oh… oh, no," groans spider-woman when she hears you slide open the door. she weakly tries to drag herself to her feet, but she slumps back to the ground and you notice, with concern, the bleeding scratches all over her body. "oh man, i did it again… i'm so sorry, i'm gonna leave, just… wow you're so pretty… sorry, i should really leave—"

"no, it's okay!" you rush to reassure her, kneeling down next to her and offering your hand. "you can't go back out there like that, let me help you."

she winces, though whether it's from pain or embarrassment you can't tell. "i am so sorry," she repeats, and something about her voice seems oddly familiar, but you're too preoccupied with getting her inside to dwell on that.

the superhero keeps rambling as you half-drag, half-carry her to the couch. "i didn't mean to come here again, it's just i usually go to my friend's place when i'm injured but she's away and i got lost and mistook your apartment for mine the last time and i'm really sorry about breaking your door, it was just so dark and i had a really long day and i wasn't thinking straight and i probably gave you so much trouble—ow!"

"sorry!" you flinch and let go of her. "is your arm okay? what happened?"

"i… um." spider-woman chuckles nervously. "i kind of swung into a building? i didn't break any windows or anything! i might've broken my arm though."

you can't help but laugh, finding her awkward manner strangely endearing. "let me take a look, it might be dislocated or something."

it turns out it's just bruised, so you get her some ice and busy yourself fixing up her injuries. she repeatedly tries to convince you that she can do it herself in between a steady stream of more apologies, but she looks like she's one step away from passing out, so you insist on helping her.

"how'd you get all these cuts and scratches, anyway?" you ask, opening the bottle of antiseptic and setting out some gauze. "if you don't mind me asking, that is."

"no, it's fine! um…" spider-woman tilts her head, as if trying to remember. "the ones on my ribs are from some muggers with knives, kids really but there were four of them and only one of me so yeah… and the ones on my arms are from the black cat, you know, my nemesis? she was robbing a jewelry store and i managed to stop her but she still escaped and also got me a few times with her claws… oh, and there's this cut on my forehead that i got when i accidentally tripped and hit my head on a wall corner a few hours ago… but i can fix that on my own! you know, cause i'd have to take the mask off for that, and like, i can't reveal my secret identity 'cause dami—that's my guy in the chair—dami would kill me, haha…"

by the time she's done talking, you've finished cleaning and wrapping all of her wounds. there's just the cut on her forehead that's left, which is still bleeding despite her flippant assurances that it doesn't even hurt.

"that looks pretty bad," you note, kneeling down beside the couch and leaning in closer to inspect it. you gently press a paper towel to the bleeding area, using your other hand to brush a stray drop of blood from her cheek. "are you able to swing like that?"

there's a beat of silence. you realize that spider-woman has gone perfectly still, and also that your faces are extremely close together.

"sorry—" you shift away apologetically, worried that you made her uncomfortable. "you probably don't like it when people touch your suit."

"it's okay!" spider-woman's voice comes out as a strangled squawk, and she quickly coughs to clear her throat. "um. i was just. surprised."

"oh… well then." you stand up and glance awkwardly around your apartment, at a loss for what to do next. "so uh… how are you feeling?"

she springs up from the couch, startling you. "a lot better, thank you so much! i've caused you way too much trouble so… i should probably get going now, huh."

"are you okay to swing with your injuries and all?" you ask as she half-walks, half-slides to the balcony in this self-consciously exaggerated way. "they looked really painful when you arrived here."

"this is nothing," she responds with a casual wave of her hand, hoisting herself up onto the balcony railing in a quick graceful movement. "i heal pretty fast, so they barely even hurt anymore."

"that's good, then." you lean against the doorframe, somewhat saddened to see her go. strangely enough, you've actually been enjoying her company despite the fact that she quite literally crashed into your apartment and woke you up in the middle of the night.

spider-woman clears her throat. "uhh—maybe i'll see you around sometime," she says, a hopeful lilt to her voice.

the sun is starting to rise, peeking over the tops of the city skyline and bathing your apartment in soft golden light. spider-woman tilts her head at you, and you're almost completely certain that she's smiling under her mask.

"yeah," you respond, smiling back and raising a hand to shade your face from the sun. "i'll see you around sometime, superhero."

spider-woman gives you a jaunty little two-fingered salute, and then she's launching herself backwards off the railing with a carefree whoop. she disappears from your view for a few heart-stopping moments, but then a web shoots up and she's swinging away in between the skyscrapers until she's out of sight.

the next day, you open the curtains to find a small bouquet of red and blue flowers sitting on your balcony. they look wind-blown and slightly frayed, and the thought of a certain superhero swinging through the city with the little pot tucked carefully under her arm makes you grin despite yourself.

you get the feeling you won't be seeing the last of her any time soon.

"um, is it okay if i sit here?"

you glance up from the chemical equations on your laptop screen, meeting the eyes of a tall girl who's fidgeting nervously with the ends of her long hair. vaguely, you recognize her as that clumsy student who ran into class late last week.

"oh, sure," you say after a confused beat, shifting over slightly to make more room for her. something about her voice rings a bell, but you're not sure why it sounds so familiar. i've probably just heard her talking to her friends before, you rationalize.

"thanks!" she sits down and starts taking out her stuff, smiling hesitantly at you. "i'm kim yoohyeon, it's nice to meet you."

she has a pretty smile, you note while you introduce yourself. "it's nice to meet you too."

yoohyeon seems shy around you and doesn't talk much, but there's something captivating about her that you can't quite figure out exactly. she pays close attention to the professor during the lecture, though occasionally you'll look over to catch her stealing glances at you—she always blushes and quickly looks away, piquing your curiosity. hmmm.

after an extremely long and boring hour, the class is over and everyone starts packing up and filtering out of the lecture hall. you're packing up as well when your arm brushes against yoohyeon's by accident, and her cheeks flush bright red as she stares at you wide-eyed.

"i—" yoohyeon clears her throat. "bye!" she squeaks, and then she's shooting out the doors before you can even open your mouth to reply.

huh, how strange.

you're studying at your kitchen table one afternoon, curtains open to let some sun into your apartment, when you hear a tap-tap-tap on your balcony door and look up to see spider-woman crouched outside.

"i hope this isn't creepy," she rushes to say as soon as you slide open the door. "i was just, er, in the area and i thought i'd swing by and say hello… um, i brought you a croissant! as thanks for, y'know, everything."

"wow, thank you," you say in surprise, taking the paper bakery bag that she's hopefully holding out to you. the chocolate croissant inside is a little flattened, but you're warmed by the gesture regardless.

"no problem!" spider-woman jumps back up onto the balcony railing, sitting and swinging her legs like a little kid. "so, uh, yeah. just wanted to do that. i hope it wasn't weird. was it weird?"

you can't help but laugh. "you're cute," you say sincerely, the words slipping out against your will—flustered, you quickly change the subject before she can notice. "um, i'm not really busy right now so… you can come in and hang out for a bit, if you want."

"really?" she tentatively slides off the railing and trots inside after you like a lost puppy. "i feel bad for intruding—ooh, were you doing homework?"

"yeah, just studying for a test," you respond, sitting down and gesturing for her to pull out a chair as well. "do you know anything about chemistry?"

"i love it!" she exclaims, perking up and scooting closer to get a better look at your notes. "i first made my web fluid in my high school chemistry lab actually, it was… well, it was a learning experience. what are you studying?"

"acid-base reactions, most of it went over my head when my professor was lecturing about it…"

before you know it, two hours have gone by in a flash. spider-woman just has this bright and likable aura around her, and as she chatters about chemistry with infectious enthusiasm and tells you funny stories about her experiences as the city's resident superhero, you find that you already feel even more at ease with her than you are with your own roommate.

"we should do this again soon," you tell her when she has to leave, standing on your balcony surrounded by the bustling sounds of the city. "and be careful, alright? don't go swinging into any more buildings."

"i promise!" she assures you with a laugh, giving you a cheerful wave before she jumps from your balcony and swings off.

after that, spider-woman starts swinging by to see you a lot more often. you can tell she still feels guilty about accidentally breaking into your apartment, because she always comes with gifts of flowers or random pastries from the bakery down the street.

"you really don't need to go to all this trouble for me," you tell her, amused, when she presents you with an entire cake.

"it's no trouble at all!" she insists cheerfully, then gasps. "unless you don't like it. do you not like it?"

"no! i really appreciate it, i promise. it's just, you don't have to get me stuff if you don't want to."

"i want to!"

it's after a few weeks of the dorky superhero swinging by your apartment that you begin to realize you might be developing a bit of a crush on her. which is ridiculous, really, considering you have no idea what she looks like under the mask and you don't know her real name either. you don't know anything about her.

but you do know her, in a way. you know that she likes to pretend she's this cool badass superhero when in reality she's just a science nerd who gets excited about mixing chemicals. you know that she loves rescuing kittens from trees even though she's scared of cats, just because it's worth it to see the relief on its owner's face. you know that she sometimes swings by elementary schools during recess because a wave or a thumbs-up from spider-woman always makes the kids' entire day. you know that she's smart, she's kind, she's clumsy, she loves helping people more than anything.

you know her well enough for your heart to flutter every time you hear her tap on your balcony door, no matter the time or reason. she usually comes by during the day now, just to bring you gifts and hang out, but every once in a while she'll still crash on your balcony in the middle of the night with injuries from fighting crime.

this is one of those nights, apparently. a forceful knock on your front door is what wakes you up at 11pm one sunday night, and you groan as you're violently dragged out of your peaceful sleep.

"coming," you mumble half to yourself, throwing a random hoodie over your pajamas and hauling yourself to the door. "i have class tomorrow, who even—"

it's spider-woman, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "hi," she croaks. the knocking must have tired her out, because she topples into your arms as soon as you open the door.

"what…" you blink groggily for a few seconds, slowly processing the girl draped all over you. your half-asleep brain notes that she's very warm. it's like a nice blanket.

then you realize that your apartment door is still wide open, and the city's most famous superhero is just standing right there in the hall where anyone could see. "what are you doing here?" you yelp, pulling her inside and hurrying to close the door. "you're in your suit and everything! did anyone see you come up?"

"dunno," she mumbles, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. "i hit my head really hard. didn't think swinging was a good idea…"

you maneuver the superhero onto your couch, and she whines when you pull away to go get the medical kit. "hurts."

"looks like there isn't any bleeding," you say, kneeling down next to the couch and examining her head. "do you think it might be a concussion?"

"probably," she rasps, squishing herself further into the couch and looking like a burrito with the blanket you put over her. "should heal in a few hours."

you furrow your brow, still not used to what she calls her spidey-healing. "okay, get some sleep. you can stay here as long as you want, alright?"

"gotta wake up early," she says drowsily. "chemistry lab tomorrow…"

you blink. you… also have a chemistry lab tomorrow. "is that so?"

"yeah." you think her eyes are closed behind her mask, but then she shifts her head slightly and giggles softly to herself. "you're sooo pretty… i was so scared to talk to you in class."

wait, what?

spider-woman keeps rambling as she drifts off to sleep. "wanted to ask you out… but i was too shy without the mask. ran away, so embarrassing��"

wait, what?

"you're really cool," she mumbles. "and nice… and pretty… i like you a lot… want to take care of you like… like you take care of me…"

a pause. "you should go out with me," she says, then falls silent. tiny snores start coming out of her mask.

you slowly stand up, head spinning with all these new revelations.

huh.

you decide to go back to sleep.

it's around three in the morning when you wake up again to the sounds of someone shuffling around in the living room. you reluctantly slide out of your nice warm bed, slipping a hoodie on and heading out of your bedroom to find the source of the commotion.

"sorry, did i wake you?" spider-woman hovers uncertainly by the open door, dressed in civilian clothes—a hoodie and sweatpants—though she still has her spider-woman mask on, which looks so ridiculous that you have to smile at the sight.

"yeah… you're leaving already?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

"yep," she says, awkwardly shifting her bundled-up superhero suit from hand to hand. "um. you should go back to bed, i know you have an early class tomorrow…" and so do i, she thinks to herself ruefully.

"let me see you off first," you insist through another yawn, covering your mouth with one oversized hoodie sleeve. "be careful on your way down, okay?"

"i will," she mumbles shyly. you can't see it, but she's blushing so hard at the gentleness in your voice and the soft way you're looking at her that she's scared her mask might burn right off her face. i've got to leave before i do anything stupid, she thinks, embarrassed. why is she so nice… and pretty…

the superhero is halfway down the hall when you remember all of last night's events and suddenly get an idea.

"yoohyeon," you call out, leaning against your doorframe.

she stops and turns around. "yeah?"

a pause.

you see the exact moment she realizes. "i—oh fuck—i mean, um—" she flounders, wildly looking around and laughing nervously. "wh-who's yoohyeon? i'm just your friendly neighbourhood spider-kim—i mean—"

you smile teasingly. "next time you ask me on a date, do it when you're not suffering from a concussion."

you don't know what her facial expression is like under her mask, but spider-woman—yoohyeon—looks like she's about to pass out, if the way she's clutching her suit in a death grip is any indication.

your smile softens. "i like you too, just so you know. a lot." you step back inside your apartment, but then you poke your head out again (yoohyeon is still standing there, frozen in shock) and add, "come back and ask me again tomorrow, okay? properly."

you close the door and take a deep breath. you feel as if your heart had stopped beating momentarily, but now it resumes racing excitedly in your chest.

hopefully i didn't just make a huge mistake.

meanwhile, yoohyeon is practically having heart palpitations outside. she spends a while just gaping like a fish at your closed door, but then she comes to her senses and practically breaks her neck sprinting to the elevator.

oh god, i need to look nice tomorrow!

the next morning, you're sitting at the kitchen table doing some studying before class when you hear the distinct noise of feet landing lightly on your balcony outside. there's the sounds of someone pacing for a while. then a light knock sounds on the glass door, making you turn around.

it's yoohyeon. not spider-woman, but kim yoohyeon from your 6:30am chemistry class. she's wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater, her long hair falling in soft waves past her shoulders and her dark brown eyes bravely staring into yours. in her hands is a small bouquet of red-and-blue flowers.

"did you swing up here?" you ask incredulously, tearing your eyes away from her and looking around. the sun is starting to rise, painting the sky in a soft rosy hue that matches the blush on yoohyeon's face. "did—"

"wait—please don't say anything," she interrupts, eyes squeezed shut. "before i chicken out."

she takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, meeting your gaze. "hi, i'm kim yoohyeon. um, i'm also spider-woman, and i… i'd really like to take you out on a date sometime."

she smiles hopefully at you. you step closer to her, taking the bouquet from her hands and leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek. yoohyeon's blush intensifies, and your heart soars.

"it's nice to meet you, kim yoohyeon," you tell her, matching her smile. "and i'd love to go out with you."

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Satiated

Astarion x F! Dark Urge

18+ violence, beheading, blood drinking, arousal at violence, sub/dom if you squint, p-in-v, sex with armor on, vulnerability, aftercare, complicated feelings, porn w/ very little plot, deranged shit and I'm not sorry

With Astarion starving in the Underdark his bloodthirsty friend sees his hunger, knows it quite well. And with a promised death in their future, seeks to help him sate himself...

-

Their time in the Underdark could have only been days but seemed to drag on endlessly. The lack of sunlight making him miserable. Snappy.

He knew he was being unfair when she asked quietly if he was alright and he scoffed at her. "Please. Spare me the coddling."

There was mild hurt in her eyes but she held her hands up in surrender. "Sorry, Star. I wont ask again."

He almost sighed, compelled to call her back and apologize. But he was nothing if not stubborn.

Honestly, the lack of sunlight was just salt in the wound. The true torment was hunger.

Nearly no wildlife available, and what was stalking around was not easy prey. If the blood in these beasts was any good anyway, he did not feel like risking life and limb every night to get some likely rancid blood.

Sure she had offered her neck a few times but she needed her strength, and it wounded his pride to feel like a charity case.

So the answer to his plight had been the spoils of combat. Any time they felled a duergar, a drow, he was draining the bodies dry.

The first few times his companions had shot eachother looks but she turned them by the shoulder, speaking quietly into their ears. Leading them away to let him feast.

He really did appreciate her, though he was struggling to show it recently. With her bloodlust he knew she understood on some level. Looked at him when he got like this with gentle recognition instead of disgust.

When they reached the Grymforge he felt delirious in hunger. Looking around at all the walking bodies, he could smell the blood.

He set his sights on the Drow, already promised dead to the Myconid's. A full meal. They just needed to get the idiot out of the rock fall and he could be sated.

When it finally came time to kill Nere and his followers he miraculously harvested all of his adrenaline and did his part, firing down arrows from on high. Watching her dance her violence into their foes.

Oh he did love watching her work. Her movements were always so joyful, a wide smile she didn't seem aware of splitting her face. Blades plunging so smoothly through chests, across throats. He adjusted his trousers as subtly as he could from his perch. Hearing her laugh, such a beautiful sound for such violent deeds.

Gods no wonder everyone was afraid of her. He should be too. And yet...

Afterwards the pleasantries were exchanged, the slaves freed, blah blah blah. His eyes were glazed over, all of his restraint focused on maintaining decorum. Mouth salivating, fangs aching.

His patience snapping, he connected to her tadpole. Hells below, can we PLEASE finish this up?

She glanced over at him, a small smile pressing the corner of her lips.

"Get out of here before I change my mind." She growled at the duergar.

"Astarion, help me with the head." She commanded. "Karlach, Lae'zel, take the remaining gnomes to the boats and make sure the path to the elevator is clear. We dont need any surprises."

"Aye, Soldier!" Karlach barked, Lae'zel nodding next to her.

"With me." She whispered, dark eyes meeting his. He raised an eyebrow slightly.

Surely she didn't need help with a beheading. He had watched her do much more strenuous violence quite easily. Ignored the twitch in his armor at the thought.

The Drow's slack form lay in a heap on the rock floor. He saw a shiver go down her spine as she straddled over the body.

"Sorry Astarion, we've got to do this first. Then we'll get you fed."

So she did plan to help him. Through the delirium he felt a tingle of fondness for her.

He could only nod, not trusting his saliva soaked mouth to form words.

She pulled her blade, chest heaving. Deeply aroused he realized, he could smell it radiating from her. He moved back to the shadows next to her to give himself some privacy as his own arousal spiked. The little remaining blood in his body pooling in his lower half.

She lifted the body to a sitting position, holding the torso steady between her knees, gripping the hair for leverage. Pressing her blade down on the throat.

He was confused by her technique at first. Surely it would be easier against the ground? Then realized what she was doing. Gravity. Keeping as much of the blood in the body as possible.

He stifled a moan, hunching over slightly. Gods he felt feral.

Back and forth she sawed through. Her eyes glazing over in pleasure. A slack smile pulling her face. Hips subtly grinding into the torso. Lost in herself.

He understood why she had sent everyone away.

When the head finally came free she gripped the scalp, smiling serenely. Free hand trying to catch the pooled blood pouring from the neck. Finding him in the dark.

Well? Her eyes said, pupils blown.

Shocked that he had forgotten his hunger for a moment he dove on the body.

Lapping and slurping he was lost. Laving his tongue along the plateau of flesh. Stopping to pull the pooled blood in her palm into his mouth, licking her fingers clean. Vaguely aware of a whimper from her lips.

Most of the blood gone from the wound he sank viscously into the lower neck, finding the base of the jugular. A tide of hot blood bursting into his mouth, rolling his eyes back. Oh gods he could barely stand it.

"There you go," She purred, pushing his hair out of his face. "You're doing so good."

His eyes met hers in a craze, a deep growl from his chest. The sensation of finally being fed and her soft words melding into something he had never felt before.

If he had more sense about him he might have laughed. From being forbidden from drinking from thinking creatures to being praised for it. The same person he had broken that chain with showering him with sweet words.

He gripped the body, his whole being focused on the singular task of getting more. More. More.

Some stray blood left his lips, dripping down the neck. Her eyes met it, lips parting.

Before he knew what was happening she leaned forward, licking it up in one small stroke. The tip of her tongue meeting the edge of his lip.

Did she...? Does she drink blood? He had never considered it but now it fired a piston of lust in his pelvis.

He pulled off of the wound, pressing his hand hard against it to keep as much in as he could.

Catching the nape of her neck and pulling her into his mouth roughly.

Pushing the mouthful he held into hers urgently.

He saw her eyes hitch back. Gripping his forearm. Throat working, moaning between swallows into his copper mouth.

Hells Below, he was going to go mad.

He latched back on, still ravenous. His eyes locked on her.

She stared at him with the same intensity. Eyes darting to the smeared blood he left in his wake. Back to his eyes. Her need apparent.

He pulled her by the throat to inches from his clamped down mouth. Pushed her jaw open roughly.

She whimpered hotly, tongue coming out to lave at his mess. Could feel the heat of her, their cheeks nearly touching.

Her tongue kept swiping at the seam of his lips as more blood slipped out. He nearly lost it when she devoted her tongue just to him, moaning sweet little calls against his jaw.

The vigor came back to him with a vengeance. The blood that wasnt fireworking across the base of his skull shooting straight to his pelvis.

The flow to his mouth getting weak he fell on his back, pulling the body over him. Loud choppy pants as he lifted his hips up. All decorum lost, he was vulgar in his need. The angle pushing the blood out. Pouring into his open mouth. Closing his eyes in deep ecstasy.

"Oh, Astarion..." She hushed, coming to kneel behind him. Her thighs caging around his head, looking down at him. Fingers running through his hair. "You've been so patient."

He nodded, looking up at her.

"You must have been so hungry." She reached forward, finger catching a stray drop traveling down his jaw.

"I'm sorry I made you wait this long." Parting her plush lips and licking it in. Seeing the edge of her tongue swirling around her fingertip.

Finally releasing the drained body he sucked his breath through his teeth.

Throwing it off of him he reached up, catching her face in both hands. Pulling her sweet mouth upside down into his. Drowning in her.

She cupped his jaw, kissing him slow. Searing. Pulling his lip into her mouth and biting softly.

He moaned into her, arching his head up for more. The blood sliding hot between their lips.

Gods she was so warm, so soft. It never failed to shock him just how heavenly she felt. Her hair falling curtain around his head. Her scent hitting the back of his throat. Jasmine, coffee, orange blossom. He wanted to be smothered by it.

Not able to stand it any longer he opened the fastenings on his armor, freeing himself from the painful cage of his arousal.

She pulled away slowly, a trail of their saliva between their lips. Looked at his length, his hand pumping along it, with lidded eyes.

Flipping she straddled over him, high on her knees. "Would you like some help?" She rumbled, fingers tracing along the fastenings on her own armor.

He nearly froze, sex was something he still felt... complicated about. And yet, he liked her. Really liked her. Trusted her. Or at least as close to trust as he could muster.

And Gods was he attracted to her, tall, curvy, scary. Very scary. Yet somehow still alluring, big doe eyes and soft plush lips. A mesmerizing contradiction.

He nodded. Gripping the chainmail on her hip.

"If we need to stop, say serpent. Okay?" She smiled, undoing the fastenings. Gods she wasn't even wearing underclothes, her perfect cunt hovering over him. A trail of wetness already pooling between.

"I like the choice of word. How devilish." He purred, watching as she lined herself up to him.

"Glad to see you found your voice again, Star." She smiled. Teasing his head in circles at her entrance. "What would I do without your voice drawling at my back all day?"

He was about to respond but she slammed her hips down. He almost saw stars, head thrown back.

"Mean." He gasped, to her evil giggle.

"Cant always let you get the last word." She smiled, trailing her hand tenderly down his cheek. His breath caught in his throat.

Her hips began to rise and fall. The cold bite of her armor against his hands his only anchor. The molten pressure of her cunt unbelievable. He was already panting.

"Gods you feel so good." She moaned, rolling her hips. Trying to hit the spot below her navel that he could find with his fingers. He arched his hips, saw her eyelids flutter, rubbing against it.

Her pace was slow, arching into him languidly. Pulling nearly entirely out then sliding back down, all the way to the hilt.

He was already writhing under her. Simultaneously needing her to pick up the pace but calling for his undoing if she did.

"While I'd enjoy riding you all night, we don't have much longer till our friends return." She mused. "So,"

Her hips began slamming into his, fast and angry.

He choked out a moan, the very same life that had been returned to him attempting to be pulled from his pelvis. Barely holding on.

He wouldn't come first. Reaching up to rub her clit.

"Gods your stubborn." She admonished, swatting his hand away.

"Let me help you find release, just one more time." She murmured, cradling the back of his head. Leaning down and catching the lobe of his ear in her mouth, nibbling and suckling.

Oh that was cheating. He groaned, hips fucking up into her hard. Nearly lost.

Her pleasure not being the forefront throwing him. Didnt she want to find her end?

"Please come inside me, Astarion." She whispered hot in his ear. Tongue licking a line up the sharp edge. "Please, beautiful."

He shuddered and with a great contraction behind his navel he was gone. Strangled whimpering moans, head thrown back. Gods above and below it felt like she was pulling his soul out.

Hips stuttering into her. Her's still rising and falling, wrenching him for all he was worth. He gripped fruitlessly at the rubble around them. Panting sharp little moans. Trying to find grounding in her chainmail thighs.

"Serpent," He groaned, the overstimulation too much.

Her hips stopped immediately. Pulling off of him and wiping him clean gently. Gingerly redressing his fastenings before hers. Her fingers sure but careful.

He stared down, dumbfounded. He had never had a lover attend to him before.

Felt the need to turn away from her, sitting up. Suddenly too vulnerable. Leaning his head into his hand, the heel pushing into his cheekbone.

"You okay?" She asked, attending to her own needs now. Tone kind and undemanding.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" He quipped, glancing at her. Trying to shake his mask back on.

She laughed, standing. Readjusting her armor with a few jostling pulls. "More than any of us know, I'd wager." She sighed.

"Hey, I dont want you to wait until it gets this bad again. Lots of people need killing and it's my pleasure to help. Truly."

Reaching her hand out easily to help him up.

He looked up at her, framed by the light of the cave in opening. The burning heat halo around her head. Her face serious again but eyes still warm. "You with me?" She asked after a beat.

He clasped his hand around her wrist. "Always."

~

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Series Masterlist

Chapter 18

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; male on female violence; allusions to female on male violence; threats of physical abuse; threats of SA; blood and injury

A/N: If you see grammatical errors, no you don’t. Please. I’m too tired to proofread tonight. I’ll fix tomorrow. 🩵

“Slow movements. Don’t wanna spook it.” You could feel his hot breath against your ear, making it difficult to focus on the buck a few yards away. The crossbow was heavier than your gun but Daryl insisted you’d take to it just as easily. “Take a breath.” You inhaled, deeply and quietly, and exhaled just the same. “Squeeze the trigger. Take the shot.”

There was little kickback but you held the weapon steady so as not to alter the bolt’s trajectory, watching the blurry figure of the deer crumble. 

“Yes!” You exclaimed, lowering the crossbow and turning to beam at the archer. You just didn’t expect him to still be so close. Your nose bumped against his, but he didn’t pull away. 

“Good job.” He praised, his voice quiet, his eyes on your mouth. 

“You’re a great teacher.” Your head tilted of its own volition, breath mingling with his. You began to close the small space between you when something caught your eye. “Oh my god, Daryl. You’re bleeding!” You let the weapon fall in favor of pressing your palms against a hole in the bowman’s left shoulder. His breaths were coming quicker, face suddenly sweaty and pale. 

The world appeared to turn around you, and though neither of you had moved, you were bowed over him then, maintaining constant pressure. Weapons were firing around you, screams echoing from all sides. 

“What’s happening?”

“Run, Y/N.” Daryl rasped, pushing away your hands only for you to replace them over the wound. “Run.”

“I’m not leaving you!” You yelled. Your cheeks were damp but you couldn’t remember when you had started to cry. 

“Ya have to. Now, go!” He snapped. 

“No!” Something zipped past your head, so closely that it disturbed your hair. There was a dull thud of a bullet tearing into flesh behind you. “If we can get you up, we can make a break for it.” Looking around frantically, you realized with abject horror that none of the people fighting had faces. Just blurred, blank skin.  “What the hell?” You came to realize next, that Daryl had quieted and stilled below you. Uttering his name as you lowered your gaze, you were met with the milky yellow eyes of a walker. Daryl. 

His mouth opened suddenly, coming at you too fast for you to dodge. You did the only thing you could. 

You screamed. 

“Shut her up!”

Your eyes snapped open as you felt pressure leaving your throat, your body tumbling from somewhere to land on a cold floor in a crumpled heap. Coughing harshly, you blinked several times and looked around. An empty room, concrete floor and walls. No windows. The lighting was a pale red, making it nearly impossible to identify the man standing over you. 

Oh, right. 

Todd was trembling, likely with rage. You had managed a few solid punches and a deep, gouging bite to his hand before he’d been able to subdue you. You couldn’t help but wonder if Daryl would be proud. 

If he was even still alive. 

“Your little boy toy ruined the good thing we had going.” Jazz was pacing slowly in front of the door, the epitome of perfect calm. “Blood, sweat, and tears went into that club. A lot of sweat and even more blood.” He chuckled, strolling over to where you were levering yourself into a sitting position, crouching in front of you. You sneered at him when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s gonna take some time to rebuild my club, and it’s gonna need to be your blood and sweat and tears this time.”

You filled your mouth with saliva, curling your lip before spitting into his eye. “You‘ve already taken enough from me.” Jazz smiled and pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket to dab at his eye. Your head jerked to the side, blood spraying from your mouth with the force of the back of his hand meeting your jaw. 

“That’s the thing about whores like you.” His tone was so calm that it made you nauseous, the feel of his fingertips on your chin guiding your head back toward him only intensifying the discomfort. “You always have more to give. And give, you will.”

“Now, Jazz. Is that any way to treat a guest?” An unfamiliar voice sounded from the doorway, distracting the former club owner enough for you to jerk your head free of his hold. “Come on away from her.”

You pressed yourself closer to the wall, wary of the new presence. Jazz reluctantly stood and stepped back to allow the man room to approach. Kneeling down to your level, he studied you in a way that made your teeth itch. He held out a hand, Todd stepping forward to place his own handkerchief onto the awaiting palm. 

“Word has it you’ve been spending time with the community holed up in that prison.” He stated, leaning to wipe away the blood on your lip and the bullet graze on your cheek with strokes that were too gentle. You offered him no answer, your chin quivering as you tipped it upward defiantly. “Not one for talking, I see.” He draped an arm over his knee and let the piece of fabric dangle between his fingertips. 

“She was promised a dental procedure. I’m sure we can get her to talk, tell us the weaknesses.” Jazz leered at you. 

“You’ll do no such thing.” The other man snapped, his eyes never leaving you. There was something about him. Something that made you fear him more than Todd, more than Jazz. 

“Who are you?” You asked, your voice quivering, your head pressing against the wall when he reached for you. A whimper was stifled as his hand began to stroke your hair, your jaw, your collarbone. 

“My name is Philip,” he grinned, the eyepatch over his right eye shifting slightly, “but most people call me the Governor.”

He was barely on his feet by the time he tumbled out of the tombs and onto the debris at the back of the prison. His pulse was throbbing in his shoulder, his shirt heavy and damp with blood from pulled stitches. He’d have to check them and change the bandage but it’d need to wait for him to catch his breath. His limbs were still uncoordinated, but the fog in his head was clearing. He’d managed to fight his way out, mostly out maneuvering the dead and only putting them down when he had no other option. He was too weak to take on them all, too out of it. 

If he was going to get to you, he had to be smart. 

Smart. He laughed wryly and struggled to a sitting position, using his good arm to keep himself upright. Nothing about what he was doing was smart. Smart would not be setting out alone while injured, much less at night. Daryl didn’t care about being smart, he cared about you. 

Where were you? What were they doing to you? Were you hurt?

He had to grit his teeth against the pain when he’d gathered enough energy to get to his feet. The groans and snarls echoing from inside were getting too close and he was moving too slowly to wait any longer. 

Climbing down the crumbled bricks and concrete was challenging but not impossible. He did pretty well, all things considered. The fence was open, gaping wide from whatever had blasted through before the group had settled. It was a way out for him, but a way in for the walkers. Another group he’d be forced to skirt around. He wished it was as simple as lathering up in guts and shuffling his way through. He inwardly groaned. Not an option with his wound. 

“Christ.” He whispered, dodging and ducking. By the time he made it through the fence and behind a tree, he was sweating. His injury throbbed, nearly doubling him over. Daryl leaned his good shoulder against the rough bark, letting it take most of his weight, and closed his eyes. 

“I have to go or he’ll kill you.” Your eyes were wet and shining, begging him to understand. He pleaded with you until he just couldn’t anymore, your tears spreading across his knuckles before you pressed your lips there instead. “Thank you, Daryl.” He couldn’t get his tongue to cooperate and settled on shaking his head, even as those same lips left his hand and met his cheek. “Goodbye.”

He couldn’t stop his voice once you pulled away, walking through the gates without looking back. 

Daryl forced his eyes open and pushed away from the tree. He’d walk until he couldn’t. He’d search the roads for tracks. If he was lucky, his disappearance would bring the others. They would know that to find him, they would need to find you. If they got to you first, great. Getting you back was all that mattered. Keeping you safe. 

If he became a casualty in achieving that goal, he was okay with that. 

Heels traipsed loudly against the concrete, the resounding click clack giving you the urge to cover your ears. If you ever wore a pair of heels again, it would be much too soon. 

Hushed voices spoke outside your door, the metal thick and hindering any hope of hearing the conversation. It wasn’t Jazz or Todd. Philip— the Governor —had ordered them away from you, slapping Jazz’s face when he disagreed. That had been a joy to witness. 

You suppressed the natural urge to flinch when the door swung open to present a long-legged blonde. Her clothing was similar to the skimpy outfits you had been made to wear, sparkling under the red light. Definitely one of Jazz’s girls. 

“My name’s Millie.” She said dismissively as the door closed behind her. It was clear she didn’t want to be there, looking for all the world like she had better things to do. “Boss said to bring you something to eat.” The tray in her hands was lifted slightly to draw your attention to it. Your eyes narrowed. You made no move to accept the offering. With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she placed the tray on the floor and used her foot to slide it toward you. “Don’t see why you get to eat the same thing he does anyway. What makes you so special?” Millie hissed. 

The plate was piled high with meat, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a little slice of some sort of cake on a separate plate. A bottle of water was on its side, unopened. Your expression didn’t change. “Tell Jazz I don’t want it.” Using the tips of your toes, you pushed it back. 

Millie scoffed. “Jazz didn’t send it. If it were up to him, you’d starve. Rightfully so for fucking some redneck trash after he burned down the one good thing we—”

“Watch it.” You warned, shifting forward as if you were about to get up. The blonde took two steps back. 

“The Governor sent the food. Eat or don’t. I don’t give a shit.” She spat, heading to the door with her fist raised to alert the guard. 

“You don’t have to stay here.” You returned to your previous position, pulling up your knees to wrap your arms around them. “I got out. You can too.”

“Are you stupid? You know what’s out there.” Millie replied, not turning around. You had never seen her before but you didn’t see much of anyone at the old club. You’d be let out on the floor only on occasion. Other girls had been sent in to tend to your wounds after a beating but you could never remember their faces, their voices distorted in your pain induced haze. 

“Yeah, I know what’s out there. There’s a lot of bad stuff. Terrifying, actually.” Resting your chin on your knees, you summoned images of Beth carrying Judith, Maggie smiling up at Glenn in the watchtower, Rick teasing the man when they changed shifts. You could see Carol smiling in that gentle way that just made everything feel alright. 

And then you saw Daryl. When he offered you berries, bowing his head so you wouldn’t be afraid. When he smirked at you the first time you fired the gun. When he watched over you from a distance while you practiced. You could remember the warmth of his arms when you clung to him after the run. The comforting smell of smoke and leather. 

You released a shaky breath and wiped away a stray tear, sniffling quietly. “Not everything out there is dark and scary. There’s good too. It makes all the terrible things worth it.” Blinking away more tears, your eyes flitted up to Millie, watching you with an expression that could only be described as yearning. 

“I’ll, uh, just have to take your word for it.” She finally whispered, tapping on the door. “You should really eat.” 

And then she was gone and you were alone again with only the memories you were holding onto for comfort. You’d forgotten so much of your life before the club. The fear of losing what you had found after was devastating. You had to make it out of there or die trying. You couldn’t fathom the possibility of being so lost inside your own mind again, so submissive to the twisted needs of any other person. 

Maybe you couldn’t find your way back to the prison. In fact, you had no idea which way to go even if you did escape, but fuck that. You’d take your chances. You’d give it your all to make it back to them. Because maybe you could. 

If Daryl was alive, you would give everything to see him again. 

By late afternoon, Daryl’s head was swimming. He had patched up his shoulder with steri strips. Not the best option for a bullet wound, but they would hold it closed and were easily replaceable should one tear loose. He had emptied the canteen but hadn’t come across any water to refill it just yet. His stomach rumbled with hunger, but that would need to wait. He could find a squirrel or a rabbit before searching out a place to crash for a while. Maybe he’d come across some of the berries you loved so much, could pack some away to give to you when he found you. 

He had made his way toward the road, careful to stay out of sight while watching for any sign of tire tracks or other indicators of activity that could lead him to the club. He shoved down the pessimism that screamed he’d never find you and pressed on. 

The others had to know he was gone by now. He could almost envision Carol’s furious expression upon finding the cell empty. And how could he even begin to blame her? He was a survivalist. He knew how to take care of himself, what to pack, what not to pack. This? This wasn’t him at all. He’d run away like a child sneaking out their window, sacrificing sufficient planning in fear he’d be busted before he could make it away from his mattress. He had been reckless, impulsive. 

For you. 

Fuck, he was in deep. 

He didn’t know how to navigate these emotions. He’d never allowed anyone that close. Somehow, he felt that there were no missed opportunities, that you were the first. It terrified him to depths of his soul to acknowledge that he would be completely content to let you be the last. The only. 

Daryl was likely headed down a path that would end in nothing good. That had been the story of his life. You probably didn’t feel the same way about him, and he couldn’t blame you. Especially given what men had been doing to you for so long. The fact that you had warmed up to him at all was in itself nothing short of a miracle. 

“Thank you, Daryl.”

“Goodbye.”

That wasn’t good enough for him. If you ever left, it would be on your terms and for your benefit. He’d be damned if he let anyone else take something from you. You finally had a home and friends and choices. 

He realized too late that he was falling, his knee meeting the forest floor with a muted thud. Breathing unsteadily, he lowered himself to both knees and tilted his head toward the sun. He only had a couple of hours until nightfall. At this rate, his body would give out if he didn’t rest and replenish fluids, get some calories, he’d never make it to you. 

Water became priority. He could do without food, but dehydration from recent blood loss and exertion would do him in long before hunger would. Staggering from tree to tree, he fought off the darkness at the edge of his vision. If he passed out where he was, becoming a walker buffet was the most likely outcome. 

It took at least another agonizing mile before he heard the sound of rushing water. A river. 

“Fucking finally.” He panted, begging his trembling legs to hold him up just a little longer. 

Water from natural sources wasn’t ideal in the best of circumstances, but given the state of the world, water just had to be water. He would not be building a fire, so he couldn’t boil it. He didn’t have a pot to use anyway. River water was at least flowing, making it the safer option versus stagnant lake water. 

He was careful when lowering to his knees, feeling weak and off balance. Losing consciousness only to tumble into a river would not lead to a happy ending for that day. 

“Damnit.” He groaned, pulling the bag from his shoulder, followed by his crossbow. The ache was constant but he felt instant relief with the added weight removed. He cupped his hands and leaned down to gulp greedily, drinking and drinking until he was certain he would vomit. Dropping forward to let his good arm hold his weight, he fought to catch his breath, willed his body to stop trembling. 

He was slow to dig out the canteen, filling it to the brim and placing it back inside his bag. Goddamn, he was tired. Beyond it. Still, he couldn’t rest yet. He needed food and somewhere of relative safety. 

Getting back to his feet was even more difficult than before, his legs threatening to give up the ghost. Fuck. Nearly crawling, he sorted through twigs and leaves and sticks until he happened upon one that appeared sturdy enough to hold his weight. Using the newfound walking stick, he struggled upright, panting from the small amount of effort. 

Maybe he’d forgo eating and just find a place to rest. He could always eat the next day. He wouldn’t starve.

Moving with a bit more ease thanks to the stick, he made his way back toward the road, filled with a futile hope of finding some sort of structure he could barricade. By the time he saw the old moving van in the ditch, he was ready to just lie down on the forest floor and hope for the best. 

The others could find him there, but he was too tired to care. He could no longer think clearly, struggling to open the back door when it should have been an act a toddler could complete. Climbing slowly into the back, he pulled the door closed behind him, groaning from the effort. The back was blessedly empty, giving him ample room. The locks were power operated so he’d have to take his chances with the living. The dead would shuffle right on by. He never had a chance to settle in or have some water, even plan his next move. 

He was unconscious before his head met the floor. 

[oncasette]

knock, when you’ve got the time

WHEN HE SEES ME I — neighbor!jamie tartt x fem!reader

summary: 4.7k.

you were less than excited to go on this blind date, far less, due to the fact that it'd been sprung on you out of the blue by your best friend. at least, that is, until you get on said date, and realize that the guy is everything you’ve been looking for. he’s sweet, he’s funny, he listens when you talk. but, he’s far more experienced than you, which is where your neighbor comes into the picture.

content: i’m american so the dialogue might be awkward at points, jamie lives in an apartment-style complex rather than the house he’s renting in the show, takes place in season 2 post reality show, pre-richmond

main masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

You feel like your chest is going to explode. 

“You did what now, Keels?” you manage to gasp out. 

“It’s just a date, babes,” she says. 

“A blind one!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she pauses to sip her tea. “I wouldn’t have set the whole thing up if I didn’t think he was a good match for you.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust her; god, you’re ninety-percent sure you trust her with your life, it’s just that

“I haven’t seen you date anyone since…”

“Martin.”

She rolls her eyes, “Martin.”

“He wasn’t so bad…” you trail off, voice picking up an octave as the sentence droned out of you. 

“He was a douchebag, babes. Grade-A. And, anyways, you need to get back out there. You’re super-fucking-smoking-hot. There’s no reason you should be cooped up all alone in this flat of yours. At least, if I have anything to say about it,” she says.

“What if I don’t want… to go on this date?” you ask. And in your head, you think it sounds like an entirely valid question to ask. Warranted, even. It’s a short lived thought when Keeley shoots you a look of fire and death. 

“So not an option, babes.” 

Your head drops, forehead thumping against the wood of your kitchen table. 

“He’s super hot… He’s funny…” she trails off. 

“Keeley, I haven’t just been single since Martin,” you say, muffled, face smushed into the countertop until she places a hand on the side of your head to tilt it just enough to allow you to breathe through your nose fully. “I haven’t gone on anything even resembling a date since Martin. I’m totally out of my wheelhouse, here.”

“Oh, lovey, it’s gonna be alright,” the hand previously on your face falls to rub circles on your back. “I’ll help you get ready, I’ll walk you to the bar. I will even sit with you until he shows up, if that’s something you like.”

“But-”

“No, buts! C’mon, you need this! It’ll be amazing and fabulous and fantastic, and if it’s shit you can tell me all about how you told me so after, while we eat a pint of ice cream and watch some shitty, unrealistic romance films at my place,” she says. She stands, abruptly, nearly tugging you up from your own chair in her midst. 

“What?”

“Let’s go. Bedroom,” she urges, only stalling to gauge the bewildered look on your face. “Did I forget to mention that your date is this evening?”

“Like, when this evening?”

“Seven?” she scrunches her nose as she checks the clock on her phone.

“It’s five!” you gape at her as she drags you to your closet of helpless, unsuspecting clothes. 

The rush of it all saves you from harping on too many of your nerves. Keeley’s sitting on the lid of your toilet telling you all about the guy she’s setting you up with as you shower, she’s tossing every semi-decent outfit you’ve got into a heap on your bed for the two of you to rifle through, and she’s sitting behind you with a curling iron as you do your makeup on the floor like you were in secondary school again. 

She nearly burns you while you’re putting on your mascara. It’s a miracle the wand didn’t go straight into your eye. 

By the time you were ready–actually ready, too, and not the “ready” you’d tried to pull past Keeley four times before that–your body felt like it’d been through the ringer. You were primped, polished, curled, exfoliated. You had on heels that, while, thankfully, you could walk in, you hadn’t worn in years and a dress that showed off more leg than you would’ve chosen for a first date. 

“Do I have to go?” you ask for what feels like the hundredth time. She rolls her eyes, shoving her thumb into your hip as she zips up the back of the dress. 

“Yes.”

“But-“

“You are going on this date and you are going to have fun and that’s all I’m gonna hear about it.” It felt like you were arguing with your mother about a toy at the shop. 

“Right, you look stunning,” she says as angels the two of you towards the body-length mirror in the corner of your bedroom. She stands behind you, arms linked around your waist. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. Her lips press into the dimple of your exposed shoulder. 

“You are going to be the kick-ass, sexy, bombshell bitch I know you are, and you are gonna charm the pants off this bloke.”

“Yeah?” You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth for a second, allowing it to pop back out with minimal damage to your lipstick when Keeley playfully taps you on the hip. 

“Yeah,” she hums, pulling her body away from her hold on you. “Come on, then. We should get going.”

It’s a short walk to the bar she’s picked out, one the two of you have frequented plenty over the last year or so of your friendship. It was one of the quieter joints, even on weekends. Kept just enough patrons to keep the doors open, but was slow enough that you could hear yourself think. 

Keeley sets the two of you up at the bar after scanning the joint, sure that you’ve arrived before your still-unnamed date, before signaling over the bartender to order a round. 

“For the jitters,” she says as she grabs the glasses off the counter and hands yours to you. You nod at her, downing nearly half of the gin and tonic in one go. 

“Fucking hell. Feel like I’m gonna shit myself, Keels,” you say, clearing the lump from your throat as Keeley chokes on the drink in her own hand. You can’t tell if it's a laugh or a cough or something in between, but once she’s gathered herself and wiped the martini off the counter, she’s facing you with a concerned look. 

“Right, look, I get you’re nervous, but what’s up? I’ve never seen you like this,” she says. You’re thankful the fabric of your dress is dark enough to mask sweat as you rub your palm across your thigh. 

“It’s just– I don’t know,” you exhale. You swirl your drink around with the tiny black straw you’d initially ignored in the glass. 

“Sounds like you do know. So, out with it,” she says. 

“What if he’s…” you trail off. Your throat conjures up another lump just for the hell of it. “What if he’s…”

“Out with it, babes,” Keeley urges. She places her martini glass on the counter before swiveling on the barstool to give you her full attention. 

“You know, like,” you swallow. “What if he chews with his mouth open or is constantly on his phone all night. Or, or what if he’s chatting with other girls just, like, right in front of me? Because Martin used to pull that shit all the time when we were in situations like this, and-”

You’re cut off by Keeley.

“You’re totally overthinking this.”

“I know.” An exhale. “I know, I know. I’m not even really that freaked about all of that if I’m being honest.” It all spills out of you like word vomit. Each sentence inching up your throat, hot and sour like the taste of bile as you spill your fears out. What if he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever met, what if he’s a kiddy doctor, or some other profession that’ll just send your ovaries into overdrive, what if he’s-

“God, what if he’s fucking perfect?” you groan. 

Keeley doesn’t elect to respond, instead dropping her hands from where they’d been resting on your knees and standing. This draws your attention. You look at her first, shorter than she’d just been when she’d been on the elevated barstool, then turning your gaze towards where hers seemed to be. Past you. At the door. 

“Grayson!” she squeaks. She half-jogs over to the door, pulling the very tall man into a swift hug that he reciprocates with vigor. 

What if he’s got eyes so dreamy you’re sure to get lost in them at some point tonight. Holy hell. 

Keeley turns back to you, dragging Grayson over the few feet that separate you from the door, and, consequently, him, before she introduces the two of you. 

“Lovely to meet you,” he says just as you’re stumbling out of your seat to greet him properly. 

Your shoulders lean forward as you perch on the toes of your feet. You’re completely unsure of yourself. If he was going to go in for a hug, you’re sure he would’ve done so already, even a handshake. You’re half expecting him to swing into Keeley’s previously occupied stool when he clears your brain’s rambling with a kiss pressed to the apple of your cheek. 

“Good to meet you, too?” you squeak out, steadying yourself with what you later realize is a hand on his chest. A hand you pull back probably too quickly seconds later, smoothing out the bottom of your dress. It only takes a second for his fingers to graze your wrist, for him to pull your hand back up to shake it in a real greeting. He takes it in his, hesitantly, at first, and you swear you feel a shock transfer between your fingers. You even think your shoulders jump, but your brain is so fuzzy, just from the proximity, you couldn’t be certain.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been here before, but there’s this drink-”

You’re already moving to pull away when he uses your conjoined hands to gently tug you into him, effectively punctuating your statement with an oomph. 

“There’s a nice table near the back if you want to head somewhere more… private,” he says. His breath fans across the side of your face, lips inches away from the shell of your ear as a shiver trickles down your spine. He knows your favorite bar like the back of his hand.

You faintly hear Keeley say, “Guess I’ll leave you both to it, then.” And you have half a mind to wave or say goodbye or even check and see if she left the bar, but you can’t when all of your focus has been siphoned to the man in front of you. She could’ve lingered and gaped at you for the rest of the night and you likely wouldn’t have noticed.

He leads you the short distance to the back of the bar from behind you, hand lingering on the small of your back in a way that just barely brushes against you. Enough to know it's there, that he’s guiding you, but not enough to truly feel him. 

You’re nearly vibrating when you reach the secluded standing table. Your drink is still in your hand, quarter full and sloshing as your knuckles wrap around the glass. 

The conversation fizzles as you try to spark it. Your mouth opens and closes with the start of various sentences dying at the end of your tongue as your brain attempts to put pen to paper and get anything out. 

“Have you known Keeley long?” he asks after a couple more failed attempts, tossing a lifesaver out to sea. 

“A year, nearly,” you smile at him. 

“Yeah?” he nods, tipping back the beer you definitely don’t remember him ordering. God, you were really losing it. 

Humming out an affirmation, you ask him, “What about you? Childhood besties?”

“No, no,” he snickers. “Though I’m sure that would’ve been interesting, I met her at this bar actually? A couple weeks back.”

You’re not sure if you feel betrayed Keeley came to your spot without you or grateful that she’d been able to conjure the man in front of you in the time you’d spent apart. 

“She spilled her drink down my shirt and somehow, in the span of the few minutes we’d spoken, had convinced me to come on this date,” he leans forward as he speaks, weight resting on his elbows. “Telling me all about how pretty her friend was. And I have to say… she undersold you.”

Your face heats under his gaze. “Is that so?”

“Who would I be to lie to a beautiful girl like you?” he asks. You have to clear your throat to gather yourself. 

“Not too bad yourself,” you admit. 

“Thank you,” he nods. “Wouldn’t want you to be too out of my league, huh?”

You shake your head and you hate how dopey your smile comes out. It's like you’re caught in a lovesick daydream just watching yourself talk to this guy. You’re quick to change the subject.

“So, what is it that you do for a living, Mr. Lee,” you drag the straw of your drink into your mouth. If only just to have something to do with your tongue, something to focus on anything other than the veins running up the backs of his hands and the way his adam’s apple bobs when he talks. 

“You’re pot on with the whole Mr. Lee thing, actually,” he chuckles. 

You quirk your head to the side in question.

“Teacher,” he says. 

“Teacher.” You raise your brows at him. Not Professor. Works with kids. 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. You’re just a lot hotter than any of the teachers I had growing up,” you say, and your heart stops beating for a minute as it gauges his reaction. That last part definitely wasn’t meant to come out. It was supposed to be said at negative twelve volume in the deepest, darkest crevice of your brain so that you couldn’t even hear it. When he laughs, though, you feel the muscle regulate itself, skipping a beat or two until it's back in its usual sync. “And what is it that you teach?”

“History.”

“So you could tell me all about the Great War if I asked?” you ask. 

“No,” Grayson chuckles. “I actually teach local history. Mostly Richmond, some greater England.”

“Sounds fascinating,” you say, even though you’re more than sure if you’d been forced to sit through one of his classes you’d hang onto every last word. With claws. And a harpoon gun. 

“It can be,” he shrugs. “It wasn’t my first choice, anyway. I had wanted to teach something less British. But it was hard enough to find a gig close to home in the age range I was qualified to teach and in the end I just wound up cutting my losses.”

“And counting your blessings,” you say. 

“And counting my blessings,” he repeats. 

The conversation starts to flow easier after that. He asks all the right questions at all the right times, he pauses and laughs and migrates closer to you across the table until your–no longer white–knuckles are gently brushing against each other. He tells you about his sister, about his childhood dog, his obsession with trivia games. 

“You’re kidding,” you’d gasped, nearly knocking your second drink–one you’d been too busy giggling to guzzle–right over the side of the table. 

“Tuesdays are my favorite night of the week,” he says as he gestures to the chalkboard pinned to the back wall of the bar outlining the events posted for that week. Tuesday night trivia was a mainstay. 

He lets you go on and on about the movie you’d watched last night, about how many times you’d seen Dirty Dancing and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. He asks follow up questions about Patrick Swayze and Matthew McConaughey, about why everyone had called her baby in the first place and why Kate Hudson quit her job at the end of the movie. He even goes as far as to say, “You’ll have to show them to me sometime.”

It’s just when the nerves are finally wearing down that a girl appears at your table. And with your newest distraction, you move to check your phone. Your clock blinks back at you with a new message from Keeley you don’t check. It’d been two hours since you’d shown up at the bar. Your shoulders feel sore, suddenly allowed to bear the weight of the hour. 

“Jeanette,” you hear Grayson say. His tone is tight, a harsh contrast to the gentle timber you’d gotten used to over the course of the evening. His lips have drawn themselves into a thin line as he shoots you a sympathetic look. 

“You never called me back, you know. I left you a message,” she says as she curls her neatly manicured hands over his bicep. 

“Thirteen, if I remember correctly,” he says. 

“Same difference.” She shakes her head in a way that pushes her curls back to fall over her shoulder. 

He uses the hand not caught in her grip to gesture towards you, introducing you to the platinum blonde before continuing, “You’re sort of interrupting our date.”

Pulling back, she looks embarrassed. Shockingly. It’s like she’s just now seeing you despite the permanent place you’d held at the table for the entirety of her visit. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, Gray,” she says, and as she moves to pull away from your conversation, she puts a hand over the side of her face to not-discreetly whisper “He does wonders with his tongue” with an even less discreet wink. 

You hear yourself say “That was interesting” just as Grayson spills out “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” you question. “It’s fine, really.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that,” he sighs. 

“What, does it happen to you a lot?” you ask, and you honestly mean it as a means to break the uncomfortable, meeting his former–or not-former, you truly didn’t know him that well, now that you were thinking about it–hook-up. 

“You’d be surprised,” he groans, and he has the gall to look less than cocky about it. Cocky you could handle. Confident, even. 

“Try me.” You absolutely, positively did not want to be tried. 

“Look,” he starts, saying your name softly. “I wasn’t going to veer anywhere near this topic tonight because I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to steer the conversation towards sex. I’ve been around the block, sure, but when–and if–we ever hit that… subject, I want it to be for us. I would want it to be whenever you were ready for it all to happen.”

Nodding, you swallow. Oh yeah, he’d “been around the block” alright. Who would ever lie about this like that. 

“I’m good with that,” you smile at him. A smile he, thankfully, is quick to reciprocate, dropping his hand to cover yours where it rests on the table. 

“Good.”

Your eyes start to feel fuzzy before either of you have called the evening to a close. Static builds up in your tear ducts and a numbness creeps up, licking at the back of your skull. 

This was insane, you were insane. This was not the kind of information you cried over. You manage to pull yourself together to end the evening with a smile, putting your number in his phone with a smiley face at the butt of it, and allow him to kiss you on the cheek at the door of the pub before you split off in different directions. 

He’d offered to walk you home, nearly begged, but you’d assured him you’d be fine to walk the block and a half back to your flat. Besides, you ease yourself, you never invite a bloke back to your place on the first date. Wouldn’t want to give Richmond’s newest serial killer prime information on your whereabouts. 

How were you meant to work with this? It wasn’t that you were a virgin, or anything. You’d had sex. Once. When you were still a teenager with your so-called boyfriend at the time who’d dumped you the very next day. You hadn’t even finished, unsurprisingly. It had been embarrassing for you at the time, how you’d done your best to convince yourself that some girls just don’t cum from sex. 

You reach your flat before you realize it. The key in your hand shakes in time with your fingers and you manage to put your back to the door before your knees give out beneath you. Every part of you felt weak, unsupportive. Overwhelmed. 

Honestly, you weren’t even mad that he’d been around. With a face like that, it’d be a wonder–and a red flag–if he hadn’t. It’s just that you’re so… inexperienced. Women your age should know their body, should know how to use it. The only aspect of sexuality that you’re familiar with is the vibrator stuffed in your sock drawer. And even that was a gift from Keely. 

You bring your hand up to wipe your face, attempting to look somewhat presentable to the public as your neighbor sweeps past you to unlock his door. The back of it comes back sticky with snot. Your neighbor’s stride stutters, back foot planted to the floor for a hair too long just before he’s spinning on his heel to face you. 

“Are you alright?” His hands are stuffed into the joint pocket of his jumper. 

“Fine,” you hiccup as you bring your knees up to rest against your chest. 

He frees his hand from the pocket only to stick it out in your direction. “Jamie Tartt.”

“I know who you are,” you scoff, nearly choking on the giggle that bubbles up with it. “Think everyone with a telly knows who you are. Or, like… a phone.”

His hand lingers in the air for a second, twitching towards you until it resigns itself back into the pocket. 

“Did you wanna talk about it, maybe? I make a mean cuppa,” he gestures back at the foot behind him that leads to his front door. 

It’s the longest conversation you’d had with the footballer. Usually you’re given little more than a nod and a shut door as he lets another girl into his flat or brings his groceries in. Though, now that you’re really thinking about it, the former had dwindled significantly in recent months. 

Either way, you shake your head. “Wouldn’t want to intrude,” you sniffle. 

“No, no,” he assures you, going as far as to take that step closer to you. His hand extends out to you again. “I insist.”

You manage to stand on your feeble legs, following Jamie into his flat with your own keys still in hand. 

“How long you been sittin’ out there?”

“Not long,” you hum, clearing your throat in the process. He grumbles out something you don’t have the heart to ask him to repeat as he moves around his kitchen. His hair is longer than you remember it being during the last match you’d caught at your parents’ house and the dark locks fall over his eyes as he puts the kettle on the eye. Then again, that Man City game hadn’t been the last time you’d seen him. 

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks. 

You don’t have the energy to be coy. 

“I don’t know how to fuck,” you say. Jamie’s hand twitches as he puts your cup down in front of you. 

“Sorry?” he coughs. 

“This guy I went on a date with earlier,” you say. “While we were out, he got stopped by this girl he’d been seeing and she made a comment about how incredible his tongue game is and then suddenly we’re talking about how many people he’s had sex with.”

By the time you finish that sentence you’re gasping for air and Jamie is looking at you expectantly. 

“No offense, but why would that matter?” he asks. 

“I haven’t had sex since I was eighteen? I have no idea what I’m doing, you know?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t know. I’m very experienced, actually.” he raises his eyebrows at you as he says it, making the comment seem less like he was bragging and more that he was… easing your nerves about the whole ordeal. You’re not sure if it’s totally working for you or not, but you manage to maintain eye contact as you bring the cup up to your lips. 

“I’m sure being a premier league footballer heartily prepares you for this kind of thing,” you say, sipping.

“I mean, yeah, but I was kinda referencing something else,” he says and you decide it's best for your own sanity to play dumb in this case. You know, not let him know you’d seen him fuck his way through his short run on Lust Conquers All. 

“And that is…” “You didn’t see me show?”

“I don’t watch reality TV,” you lie. Of course you’d seen his run. Everyone had seen his run. Even if it has been through a mix of very flattering and very unflattering gifs on Twitter. 

“How d’ya know it was reality TV?” he asks with a cocked brow.

“Hunch,” you shrug. You sniffle as you hold your cup in your lap, both palms held tight to the warm porcelain. 

You watch him meander around his kitchen, feeling somewhat comforted by the fact that its a mirror of your own, as he mulls over the information you’ve given him. It wasn’t like you were expecting him to do anything with it. You hadn’t expected to tell anyone about it, if you were being frank, but Jamie had caught you at a fairly vulnerable moment outside your door.

“I think I’ve got an idea,” he declares. 

“Proceed.”

“I could help you with your little problem. Ya know. With my expertise,” he says. 

“Such a fancy word for a footballer,” you say with a bite.  

“Right hilarious,” he clears his throat. “Anyway, back to my idea.”

“Your idea… about teaching me how to have sex?” you ask, nearly incredulous at this point. 

“No, not how to have sex,” he starts. “Just…” “How to have sex,” you finish.

“Look, right, you said it yourself. You lack experience,” he shrugs. “I can help with that.”

“So, what are you wanting me to do? Drop my dress to the floor and beg you to fuck me? You don’t even know me,” you say, not even totally sure yourself where the hostility is coming from. 

He shakes his head, placing both hands flat against his kitchen island to face you fully. 

“We could get to know each other. I’m just throwing ideas out there. It doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or fucking ever, really, but if you decide you want me to help you with your little… predicament, all you have to do is knock on me door, yeah?”

Swallowing, you bring your eyes up to make eye contact with him. What the fuck was going on? In the span of, what, six hours, you’d been thrown into a blind date with a guy ripped straight from your dreams, discovered said dream-guy was overwhelmingly into you, discovered same said dream-guy had slept with half of Richmond and some of Wales, and had your neighbor proposition himself to you after finding you sobbing outside your front door? Were you in an episode of The Twilight Zone? 

You look down at your cup before bringing it up to down the small amount of liquid left within it in one gulp. 

“Predicament is another fancy word. You’re on a roll,” you say after you’ve swallowed down the amber liquid. You make a move to stand, arranging your keys in your hand so that the key that opens your front door is pinched between your thumb and your index finger. 

“I’m smarter than you think.” He follows close behind you, opening the front door for you to step out into the hallway. 

“Should’ve told your showrunners that,” you say, facing him for a second before you’re pushing the key into the lock and opening your own flat. 

“So you have seen the show,” he says. 

“Goodnight, Jamie Tartt,” you reply. You hear a muffled goodnight through your door seconds after you’ve clicked it shut. 

As you drop your belongings in their designated spots and kick your shoes off by the door, you bring yourself to look at your notifications. 

Keeley MF Jones

Hope you’re having fun!!!! Text me when you’re home and safe xxx

A new message rolls in just as you bring your finger across the screen to unlock it.

Keeley MF Jones

I’ll take it that my lack of response means that the night ended well ;)

Love you, babes! Stay safe!!

I want all the details tomorrow!!

Pausing, your fingers dance an inch above the keyboard before finally typing out a phrase. She doesn’t need to know everything.

My lips are sealed. 

[superblysubpar]

12 days of Xmas request:Friends to lovers.

Snowed in alone w Eddie at either his place or yours. Power goes out, no heat. Spend a couple of hours huddled together like eskimos but come nightfall, it’s unbearably cold. And, well, huddling becomes cuddling, cuddling becomes….“how do you think we’re gonna get warm if you’re trying to take my pants off!”

There is still one spot left in my twelve days event if you’d like to request something - no need for it to be Christmas themed, winter activities/stories are more than welcomed too. The playlist so far is linked at the end of the story. Let me know what you think, any interaction is so appreciated and loved! 

Summary: see above ask for summary, I couldn’t help myself and I wrote smut for @boomhauer in an apology for all my joe keery/steve photo blasting lately. I hope you like it! Eddie Munson x you, use of Y/N and petname baby, slight fingering (reader receiving, eddie performing), unprotected PIV intercourse/creampie, coming so fast it'll give you whiplash | This post is NSFW and contains smut so 18+ only

A/N: So sorry this is late, I ended up having a busy weekend and was unable to edit/post from my phone. I hope it was worth the wait! Also, I promise if you don’t like this song, it’s not a creepy fic. It’s just two idiots snuggling in a sleeping bag together that leads to a good time. No coercion I promise. All consensual. 

2.5k words

Day 06 | Track 06: “Baby It’s Cold Outside” by Dean Martin

You thought when your aunt offered up their cabin for a winter getaway it sounded like a great idea. A much needed vacation for the group of you older kids. To be away from Hawkins and the young ones and just be kids yourselves again for a little bit. 

As you watched the sky turn darker, purple tint falling across everything as the white snow fell in what seemed like heapfuls, it’s only mission in life to attack and annihilate the planet, you started to think it was actually the start of a terrible horror movie. 

So far, you were the only one there, your parents dropping you off on their way to their own vacation. You let the curtain fall in front of the window as you searched the cabin, deciding that knowing where extra blankets, candles, and the liquor cabinet was located were all becoming drastically more likely to be of use. 

You were pulling on another sweater and wool socks when the phone rang and you ran to it, sliding a little on the cabin’s wood floors, answering it breathlessly, “Hello?”

Static filled the other side and you tried again, “Hello?”

“Oh! Y/N! Thank god!” Robin’s voice was crackling and you pushed the phone closer to your ear like that would help.

“Robs, I can barely hear you-” more static that made you pull back a little.

“Steve and I are stuck in a little town not too far…” static took over her words, trailing in and out of a coherent sentence, “motel. Eddie should…” and then the line went dead. 

Eddie should what? Should have been here by now? Was she going to say shouldn’t have and then what?

Your fingers started to itch as you realized the phone was completely dead, no static or dial tone. You looked around and the lamps you had clicked on were all out.

Oh shit. Totally a horror movie.

Glad you had in fact located extra candles, you started to light them as the cabin started to fall into darkness and then you heard a loud bang and froze. 

You were alone in a cabin, stuck in a snowstorm with no transportation, and the power went out. You were the idiot who got killed off first and all of your friends would still come up the following day, unsure of what happened and get sucked into the plot of the movie, all running from whoever or whatever got you first.

You grabbed the closest thing to you as you heard the thudding get louder, the door swung open and you lunged towards the figure in the door who was screaming right back at you.

Hands up in the air and large brown eyes blinking at you and you stopped, a box of macaroni noodles suspended in the air as you tried to catch your breath. It was just Eddie.

You threw the box of noodles at him anyways, “Don’t do that! I could have killed you!”

Eddie had his hand over his heart, catching his own breath, but he caught the box with a lopsided grin on his face, “With uncooked pasta?”

You crossed your arms, the sudden chill he let in reminding you that you didn’t have heat anymore and frowned, “Shut up.”

Eddie looked around at the candles and his smile fell, “Fucking hell. Do we not have power?”

You shook your head, “Just went out. Robin called me and-”

“Are they okay? I lost them when we stopped for gas, Steve’s little BMW should not be driving in that shit.”

You nodded and moved your way to the living room, “Yeah from what I could hear, it sounded like they stopped at a motel. So just us tonight I think.”

Eddie smirked as he removed his snow covered outer layers, pushing a duffle bag across the floor. 

You looked at the unlit fireplace and asked, “What? What’s so funny?”

Eddie laughed as he hung up his coat, “Oh just Harrington and Buck stuck in a snowstorm in a tiny motel room. I feel like I’d pay money to watch how that all unfolds, arguing over TV channels, sides of the bed, all that,” he came over to the fireplace, “Plus, you know, we’re definitely living the plot of a horror movie.”

You groaned and rubbed at your cold cheeks, “Don’t say that, I was already thinking that before you got here. I’m the first dumb girl to go.”

Eddie started to poke around in the fireplace and chuckled, “Nah, you’re the first girl. You’re the one who makes it out in the end. Movie ends with you covered in the blood of some crazy monster or serial killer that you defeated in some revenge plot for killing your…”

He trailed off and you tried to calm your heart down, because Eddie saying you were the badass who lived in a horror film over everyone may have been a throwaway comment to him, but for you it was the greatest compliment and you were swooning a little. 

His tongue was out as he concentrated on lighting the logs when the familiar woosh of the flame catching filled the small cabin and his lips fell into a smug and confident smile, you had to turn away from how cute he was. You grabbed all the extra blankets you could find and dumped them in front of the fireplace. He looked at the blankets, the fireplace and then around at all of the candles before his eyes landed on you. Both of you turning away from the other quickly, him mumbling something about changing. 

You tried not to focus on Eddie’s movements as you unrolled your sleeping bag, tucking more blankets into it and over it. As he left and walked down the hall, you took the liberty of unfolding his sleeping bag and went down the hall to change yourself. 

Shivering from being away from the fire for only a few minutes, you returned to find Eddie starting to zip into his sleeping bag, a plain sweater and sweatpants, you had never seen him so casual before, like his layers of defense were gone. 

You tucked yourself in and no matter how you rearranged the blankets, you were freezing. 

You listened as Eddie was doing the same, and you were fairly certain he could hear your teeth chattering.

“Y/N?” 

You rolled to see only his big brown eyes blinking at you, the flames of the firelight flickering in them and his nose poked out, a little pink. You shook from your shivering and he closed his eyes before blowing out his breath, “Okay, I’m totally not trying to be a perv, but would you want to share sleeping bags? I feel like it would help.”

You knew he was right, but the thought of you and Eddie sharing a sleeping bag was overwhelming. But as your teeth clinked together you found yourself nodding. He slowly unzipped his and you crawled in, careful to keep your arms from drifting past his elbows and facing him, chests and legs pressed together but both of you rigid against the other’s body. 

You pulled your sleeping bag and the blankets around you both and already it was better, the heat from the fire on your forehead and Eddie’s breath on your cheek. You pressed your hands tighter, curling up against his chest and looked up at him through your lashes, whispering, “Is this okay?”

He nodded and cleared his throat, arm wrapping around your waist, “This?”

You nodded and took a deep breath, the scent of Eddie’s soapy laundry detergent filling your nose and making you a little dizzy, nose pressed to his collar. 

You inched a little closer, risking the movement of your legs tangling in his a bit, pressing your cheek to his chest and listened to his heart beating rapidly underneath it. You smiled at the thought of him being just as nervous as you and wrapped one of your arms around his waist too, fingers touching the skin on his lower back where his shirt had raised a little. 

He sucked in his breath and you started to pull away, “Sorry, too cold or-”

He pulled you closer, “No! I mean,” his cheeks were pink, and he cleared his throat again, “No, just surprised me. It’s good. It’s nice.”

He was babbling and you scooted closer again. Listening to the fire crackle, Eddie’s heartbeat and breathing slowing, you felt your eyelashes fluttering together. You started to move your fingers up and down Eddie’s spine and he hummed a little, arms wrapping around you tighter.

His own fingers were buzzing small circles into your lower back and you shivered, and didn’t argue when Eddie whispered, “Still cold?” 

You felt him pull your arm away and before you could protest at the lack of contact, he was rolling you, back to his chest and curling you into him, both of his arms wrapped around you and your legs tangled together. 

His breath on your neck and close to your ear as he whispered, “Better?”

You gasped at the heat of his breath on your skin and nuzzled back into him as you nodded. His fingers splayed across your stomach and thigh and you pushed your hips back into him. Your skin was buzzing with electricity, Eddie’s breath in your ear doing something to you that you’d never felt before. You were on the verge of making a needy, whimpering noise when you felt his hardening length pressing into your ass.

You rolled your hips back into him slowly and he nudged against you, fingers continuing to leave a buzzing trail on your stomach and through the layers on your hips. His breath continued to fan up and down your neck. A teasing game you were playing, your hips rocking into him like it could be an accident, him nudging back against you, but the more you kept doing it, you both knew it was on purpose. Bodies slowly pushing closer together and hips rolling against one another. Your heartbeat pounding in your chest and underwear growing wetter as you both slowly grinded into each other.

His nose nudged just under your ear, his lips grazing your skin and your hand laced itself into his, and you arched your back into him, pulling his fingers to your waistband.

You pushed his hand past the layers, thick fingers sliding through your slick easily and you shivered against him, guiding his other hand to your hip and rocking against his fingers moving up and down through your wetness. 

You heard him whisper so quietly, that if his mouth hadn’t been directly behind your ear you wouldn’t have heard him, “fuck me, is this really happening?”

You giggled and wrapped your fingers back into his hair, pulling him to your neck harder, his lips traveling up and down it. You moaned as he nipped at your skin before sucking a bruise into you as his fingers pushed into you deeper. 

Removing his lips from the new mark and trailing down your jaw, he whispered into your skin, “You know, I think I read somewhere that if you take your clothes off, your bodies can-”

You started to pull down your bottom half layers and you felt his fingers still and you grabbed his wrist, pushing him to keep moving and he started babbling into your neck, “Oh my-fuck, okay, you sure?”

You laughed and pushed yourself into his erection, rolling your hips as his fingers continued to glide through your folds, not sure what else to show him how you wanted this desperately so you said, “Yes, Eddie. Gonna take your pants off now or…?”

He nodded into your neck, shimming his sweats down, and you shivered as he slid between your thighs, both of you a little breathless. He reached up and turned your chin, eyes wide and concerned and you knew he was going to be sweet and ask you if you were sure again.

You rolled your eyes and pressed your lips to his and you felt him relax, sighing into your mouth. He pulled away and brushed the hair from your neck, pushing his tip through your folds and into your entrance slowly.

Eddie pushed deeper, both of you gasping at how your walls clutched him tighter, his fingers splayed across your hip, digging into your skin and dragging you up and down slowly and to your delight, he whined into your ear. 

Bodies slowly grinding together, Eddie’s hips rocking up into you, his breath hot on your neck and ear, his hand squeezed your hip once more before trailing up your side till he reached your chest, cupping one of your breasts.

Your eyelids were fluttering closed, the feeling of Eddie sliding in and out of you slowly as his breath buzzed into your skin was sending you into a euphoric state. Eddie pressed more kisses into your neck as his hand traveled back down your stomach.

“Fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last,” he gasped against you and you whined, arching your body away from him, needing more and also already feeling like it was too much. 

Eddie’s fingers pulled some of your slick up and to your clit, pressing soft figure eights into it as his hips started to thrust up into you faster, pulling your leg over atop his, spreading you wider for him. 

You clutched the blankets, the arousal and tension that had been building for too long threatening to snap, “Eddie, please, fuck!” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, wanting him to slow down and go faster all at once. 

He gripped your hip as his other hand worked faster into your swollen bundle of nerves, his thrusts hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you and his breath was hot in your ear as he groaned, “I know, come on, let go for me baby.”

His voice in your ear was the tipping point of no return, his thrusts started to stutter as you screamed out his name, his lips and nose nudging down your neck as his finger continued to swirl and press into you softly. Your orgasm crashing into you both at the same time, tightening around him as you cried out and his hot ropes of cum painted your walls. Both of you were breathless, panting against one another. 

Eddie kissed your neck and laughed a little, “Now is definitely when the killer comes in.”

You smacked his hip, “Eddie!”

You felt his smile against your neck as his arms wrapped around you tighter, despite you being as close as you could be still, and he whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

His lips brushed down to your collar, fingers tracing soft circles on your bare hip and his nose nudged at your shirt, whispering, “I really did read something about keeping warm without clothes on,” his lips brushed up to your ear again and he squeezed his arm around your waist as he whispered, “It’s only going to get colder outside, baby.”

Twelve Days of Christmas Playlist:

[fayes-fics]

Valuable Opinion

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Benedict’s opinion on festive lingerie is revelatory.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, minor d/s tones, cunnilingus, mention of vaginal sex, flirting, lingerie.

Word Count: 2.2k sorry I can’t do drabbles it appears

Smutmas Theme: Lingerie

Dialogue Prompt: “I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but do I look fuckable?”

Authors Note: Day 1 Contribution to 12 Days Of Bridgerton Smutmas hosted by @hallownightsblog. I used this gif even though it’s regency not modern cos 1) Benedict on a sofa 2) that eyebrow twitch. The fleeting mention of car sex in this could probably be a fic in itself tbh, but that’s for another time lol. Enjoy <3

“Okay. I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but do I look fuckable in this?” You screw your eyes shut, embarrassed the words have even left your mouth. You hold your robe open towards the man sitting on your sofa.

In desperation, and with your flatmate Kate still not home yet, you turn to the only other person around before your date, Kate’s boyfriend’s gay brother, who came over to help her with something Christmas-related.

Benedict splutters into his drink.

“Fucking hell, give a guy some warning,” he mutters heavily, and when you peel your eyes open again, he is looking down, shaking his sleeve, attempting to remove some whiskey splashes.

“What?! Kate told me you’re into men; I figured a gay guy would be able to help me decide if this is sexy enough?” You shrug, retying the robe you wear, and going to pour him another drink on autopilot.

“I am into men, yes, but I am not gay,” his voice uneven, “I am bisexual. There is a difference.”

“Oh, so you….” You feel your cheeks burning as you pass him the fresh glass.

“Yes, I am also into women too,” he supplies, as it’s your turn to splutter.

“Oh god, I’m so so sorry,” your cheeks blushing hard.

“Don’t be… it was, well, it just took me by surprise, that’s all. We’ve only met once before,” he reminds you.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” you mumble into your robe. “I’m just so nervous about this third date tonight….”

“Ahhh, the third date is the sex date,” he chuckles knowingly.

“Exactly,” you shuffle awkwardly.

“Well… speaking as a red-blooded male, who does indeed also find women attractive,” he begins, pointedly raising an eyebrow, his voice dropping into a range that makes your skin break into goosebumps and your nipples pebble. “From what I saw, I would say he is a fortunate man.”

You feel your heart pound as he follows it up with a teasing crooked smile and a quick wink.

“But,” he lingers on the last syllable of that word and looks up at you through long lashes, taking a sip of his drink, “if you need a second opinion, I could check again for you.” There is no mistaking the heat or intention in his tone.

Before you know what you are doing, you are standing in front of the twinkling Christmas tree and untying the robe again. Your breath is shallow and fast. You probably shouldn’t do it, but damn if this man isn’t gorgeous. When you thought he was gay, you could dismiss your attraction. Now, those hooded hazy blue eyes are concentrated on you and his broad chest is rising and falling faster than before. Well, this is an opportunity you can’t deny yourself. Screw your date.

This time the whole robe comes off, and you let it slip from your shoulders to a heap on the polished wood floor.

The lingerie set is a somewhat festive dark green and lacy; a balcony demi cup just covering your nipples, a tiny matching thong and a garter belt holding up sheer black stockings. You have been waxed and exfoliated to within an inch of your life, and you know your just moisturised skin glows in the soft light of the tree.

His gaze is so heavy you swear you can feel it slide over your body. You see his fingers twitch and his eyebrow raise a tick before he schools his face. His eyes give him away, though, now just a ring of blue around inky black pupils.

He exhales heavily. “I stand by my first opinion,” his voice cracks on the last word.

Unsure what possesses you, you saunter a couple of steps towards him, swaying your hips in the heels you wear. Then whip around, so your back is to him. A guttural noise sticks in his throat. The crest of euphoria it causes in your veins is like an intoxicating drug.

“Does it look ok from this side, too?” you simper over your shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that he is trying to rearrange his jeans subtly.

“Certainly,” he assures. “You, if you don’t mind me saying, have a fantastic arse.” The words are muttered fiercely, and every inch of your body feels alive. Dear god, you want to fuck this man until your teeth rattle.

You slowly turn back around; correction, you gyrate, tilting your pelvis down and rolling your hips. There is no mistaking the message you are now transmitting, either.

He growls, his eyes trained on your thong.

“Thank you for your valuable opinion Mr Bridgerton,” you drawl, emphasising his last name, elongating each syllable as if it were a delicious treat to savour.

He looks up, his gaze meeting yours, and there is heat and fire.

“Won’t you be late for your date…” he teases.

“Perhaps I’ve lost interest in it,” you shoot back coquettishly and gently pull your lower lip under your teeth.

“What a pity to waste such a sexy outfit,” he gusts, his hips twitching a touch, making the leather of your sofa creak.

There’s a palpable tension in the air that is thick and dark like molasses. You’re both goading each other now.

“Yes, such a shame,” you concur with mock sincerity, “I should go change, I suppose…” it’s as open of an invitation as you are willing to give him.

He snaps and takes it.

“Get in my lap. Right now,” Benedict orders quietly but commandingly through gritted teeth.

You can’t help the triumphant smirk that dances across your lips. “Make me,” you challenge, eyeing the doorway, knowing you could run and right now, he might just pursue you.

His nostrils flare, and his large hands (how have you never noticed how large his hands are before?) slide down over his thighs as he leans forward.

“If you want me to chase you, you will lose that race,” his voice is steely but heated, his eyes glittering.

There is an electric slide of want down your spine, and you shiver at the thought of him pinning you down victorious, his chest heaving against yours.

Again the air crackles with tension as you take a step towards him but intentionally look at the open doorway as if considering your options.

“What would you do if I win?” you inquire softly, looking back down at him.

“Whatever you want me to,” he exhales seductively, and the thought makes your stomach flip. You want to strip off your thong and ride that beautiful face until your thighs shake.

“And if I lose…?” you murmur.

His right hand shoots forward, and a single knuckle trails a hot line down over your belly button; your abdomen ripples like molten fire across your skin.

“You do exactly what I tell you to,” he answers, “like a good girl.”

You can’t help it. You flood your underwear.

“So tell me…” he intones, the knuckle now rubbing across the top of your thong, “are you going to climb into my lap or are you going to run?”

“I’m going to run,” you whisper breathily.

His knuckle falls away from your skin, but there is another leather creak from the sofa as he moves further forward. You are standing between his knees now. He is looking up at your face and is so devastatingly handsome you want to swoon against him.

“That was a tactical error,” he smirks lowly, “the only advantage you had was the element of surprise.”

“Indeed,” you agree, and your hands shoot out and shove his shoulders roughly, causing him to fall back against the sofa. You immediately straddle his lap and settle onto his slightly splayed thighs. “Surprise!” you rejoinder with a lopsided smile of your own.

“You little minx,” he growls as your hands pin his shoulder down, and you rock forward in his lap, dragging your thong over the bulge in his jeans.

Those large warm hands land on the dip of your waist, and you moan at the sensation. He pulls you snugly against his front, and you feel all sorts of lean muscle as he tilts his face to yours. All you see are his lips, ready to be kissed.

You cup his jaw and press your mouth down onto his.

Instantly you are swept into a passionate kiss, his mouth moving hot and insistent. Parrying for the upper hand, a peak of tongue meeting yours as you pant into each other’s open mouths.

His huge hands slide over your skin and cross over behind your back, embracing you tight. The insistent bulge is crushing the lace of your thong, rasping it against your clit in the most delightful way.

“We are going to fuck,” he states with a clarity you find refreshing, “but not here. If Kate walks in, as she is due to any minute now, this may scar her for life.” He points out, a thumb running over your lips. “So you had better tell me which is your bedroom or grab a coat and get in my car right now.”

“Why should I get in your car?” You frown.

“Because,” his lips are hot on the shell of your ear now, “I intend to make you scream, and I assume you probably don’t want to do that after your flatmate is home.”

He makes a very good point.

“I, on the other hand, live alone. And don’t care what my neighbours think,” he shrugs, raising a seductive eyebrow.

Your coat and evening bag are already in the hallway for your now-abandoned date. Benedict watches as you think about the options he presents.

“Or I can walk away, and we can pretend this never happened…” he offers neutrally, removing his hands from your skin and holding them up and away, giving you an out and telling you in shorthand this is all about what you want.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you growl, and he smirks, the hands falling back to your waist. “What car do you have?”

“Jaguar EV,” he answers, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You slick bastard,” you grumble, knowing you want a ride in it and a ride on him.

You climb out of his lap and go to your coat rack.

“Coming….?” You call from the hallway as you button up your coat.

He springs out of the seat and practically chases you to his car.

It’s sleek, understated and incredibly alluring, just like its owner. It’s a smooth, sophisticated ride too, and as he pulls up at a quiet overlook point on the way to his, you soon find out he is as well.

As you lean back against his steering wheel, him biting your nipples as you come shuddering on his delicious cock, you know this is something you definitely want more of.

——

You wake up in his flat the next day, and it feels like it’s the most natural place for you to be. Just as Benedict has you laid out naked on his oversized white quartz kitchen island, Kate calls you; he makes you answer it despite what he is doing.

“So someone isn’t home. How was the date?” Kate asks smugly with a giggle.

“He’s a fucking revelation,” you answer with a partial truth, even if you obfuscate who you are referring to. Benedict lightly bites your inner thigh with a rich chuckle.

“Wow, I’m glad for you, y/n,” she peals with laughter. “Wait, before you disappear back into sexual bliss, you didn’t happen to see Ant’s brother Ben before you left, did you? He was supposed to be here but never showed up.”

“I’m sure Ben didn’t forget; something probably came up,” you assure, not knowing how to answer in any other way, the man in question currently doing his level best to make you moan as he drags a heavy tongue over your folds.

“Ah well, I’ll call him,” she dismisses. “So I’ll see you, what, tomorrow maybe?”

“Sure, call him. And, umm, maybe see you in two days. This guy is something else, Kate,” you whisper conspiratorially. You know he is preening now.

Suddenly the phone is wrenched from your grip.

“Kate, it’s Ben; just a few things,” Benedict drawls as your mouth drops open in shock. “One, I would never stand you up. Two, please learn the difference between gay and bisexual. And three,” his face disappears between your legs again, “please don’t call us for at least, hmm, three days. In fact, don’t expect to see either of us until Christmas. Ok byeeee,” and he hangs up the phone, tossing it aside and spears his tongue right against your clit.

“Ben!” You yell and pull him up by gripping his hair at his scalp.

“What?!? And owww, by the way,” he pouts, signalling to his hair.

“What the fuck did you just do?!?!” You splutter breathlessly.

He shrugs demurely. “I killed many birds with one stone. Kate now knows about us and will tell the others; we have privacy.”

You have no answer; you just stare at him, mind-boggling from the whiplash of experiences.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” he argues pointedly, “I’m rather busy until at least Christmas, so please don’t interrupt me again,” he smiles devastatingly, and then he is back lapping your clit harshly, holding your hips down as you writhe and scream.

You come in record time.

What a Merry Christmas, indeed.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld