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bruisedboys · 1 year ago

Note

reader and peeta showering together after a hard day (just some innocent intimacy nothing suggestive) 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 love this man sm 😭🤞🏻🤞🏻

!!!!!! thank you for the req angel <3 this inspired me so so much! thanks for kickstarting my writing for peeta era hehe

peeta mellark x fem!reader 16+ please for non-sexual nudity. not really in universe but can read as post mockingjay if you want it to!

Peeta’s sketching on the bed when you come inside. One knee propped up with his back against the wall behind the bed, his sketchbook pressed against his thigh. His golden hair falls over his forehead, messy where he’s been too distracted by his drawing to push it back.

He looks up when you enter, smiling a bruising smile you don’t feel deserving of.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart.” It’s alarming how quickly he sets aside his book and pencil to reach for you, as if he hadn’t been immersed in his sketching mere seconds ago. “C’mere, I missed you.”

As much as you’d like to be wrapped in his strong arms right now, you’re filthy, and he’s just changed the sheets earlier today.

“I can’t. I’m all dirty, see?” You wiggle your dirt-covered hands at him. You’ve been in the garden all afternoon. Time drifted away from you as you planted a new batch of tomato seeds. By the time you were done, the sun was setting and you hadn’t even realised. Your knees are stained dark brown and you’ve got dirt up to your elbows. “I’ll shower first, then we can cuddle. Sorry, baby.”

Peeta looks decidedly put out. You turn away from him before he can convince you any further, because you know if he looks at you like that for much longer you’ll give in. You pull fresh clothes from your side of the dresser and then move down the hallway to the bathroom.

The showers warming up and you’re starting to undress when Peeta knocks on the door. It’s unlocked, and he doesn’t have to, but he knocks anyway.

“It’s me,” he says. Who else would it be? You think. Silly man. “Can I come in?”

You pull the door open for him instead of answering. You’re halfway out of your clothes but it doesn’t phase him. Sure, he looks, but not for long, and not in a way that would suggest anything other than affection.

“Hey,” he says. He pushes the door closed behind him. The shower runs in the background, a peaceful thrum. “Do you mind if I join you? You can say no.”

You huff a soft laugh. He should know by now that saying no to him is a near impossible feat. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You finish undressing quickly, eager to be clean and warm. Peeta leaves to get fresh towels while you hop in under the hot spray. The majority of the dirt on your skin has been rinsed by the time he gets back. You hear him moving around the bathroom for a minute or so before he pulls the shower curtain aside. You let him in, moving aside to make space for him. It’s tight, but it’s not uncomfortable. Weirdly, it’s almost a perfect fit for the two of you.

Peeta moves under the shower head and the water quickly drenches one half of his hair and one of his shoulders. His big hand slides over your hip and he carefully moves you into a position where you’ve both got equal spray.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. He’s so close you could count his freckles, each light brown spot scattered across his collarbones.

“Hello,” you say back. His thumb rubs your hipbone, up down, up down. “Is it too warm?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

You smile and touch your palm to his cheek. “You okay?” You’re not asking because he seems out of sorts. You’re asking because you want to know, and if he’s not he’ll tell you. He does the same for you. It’s just how you love each other.

Peeta nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. How did your gardening go?”

You beam. You love that he cares about what you care about. “Good. We’ll have tomatoes growing out of our ears by summer, I think.”

Peeta laughs. It’s a brilliant sound that bounces off the shower walls and warms your chest. “Awesome,” he grins. Then, “Hey, you’ve got dirt under your ear.” He reaches behind you to grab the flannel hanging on the shower caddy. “Look that way for me?”

He holds you still with a hand at your jaw and rubs the dirt from your skin so gently you barely feel it. His touch is like a magnet — you’re drawn to it over and over again, no matter how generously he gives it to you. When he asks if he can wash your hair, you’d be crazy if you said no.

“Yeah, please,” you tell him, past caring how desperate and needing of his touch and love you are. He knows, anyway.

Peeta turns you by the hips so your back is to him, then gently tilts your head backwards. You hand him your shampoo and he squeezes a dollop onto his hands, rubbing his palms together before spreading the bubbles over the top of your head. He’s very, very gentle with it, much more than you’ve ever been, massaging the soapy, sweet-smelling bubbles into your hair, fingers rubbing circles onto your scalp. His dedicated touch, along with the gentle thrum and warmth of the shower spray, is enough to almost put you to sleep.

“Okay, you can rise now,” Peeta speaks up. His tone is soft and you suspect he’s noticed your sleepiness. He gets very soft with you when you’re tired. “Shut your eyes, please.”

You do as he says and he directs you under the spray. He holds a hand over your forehead like a barrier so the bubbles can’t escape and sneak into your closed eyes. The action in itself makes your chest ache. He cares more than you could ever comprehend.

When he’s done rinsing you finish scrubbing the dirt from your knees, your elbows. Peeta washes his own hair, and you help him rinse the same way he did for you.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. Warm water and soapy bubbles stream over his shoulders, his neck. His eyelashes are wet, clinging to each other in sparkly triangles. He dips down and kisses your shoulder, then your cheek. “Love you.”

You beam. You love him more than anything. You get on your toes to kiss him properly, a warm press of your mouth on his, a promise for more of the same later, when you’re clean and dry and fed. “Love you too, Peeta.”

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

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attapullman · 6 months ago

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Robert's Laundry Service | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A broken washing machine and a clogged bathroom sink lead you and Robert to explore the next part of your secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Bob Floyd x afab!reader, no use of pronouns, no y/n, a little angsty, very smutty, 18+ ONLY as always, unprotected PinV, use of sex toys, language, a lot of cum mentions, neighbor!Bob being perfect as usual

A Note From Mo: Did anyone else miss neighbor!Bob? He needed some love, and that's what he's getting today! Thank you to @roosterforme for inspiring this idea that I took entirely too far. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be hoping that he moves into the empty apartment next to mine 🙏 p.s. this takes place before Stupid White Car

It’s hard to pay attention to the bad diagnosis he’s giving when your visual is just those threadbare grey sweats. Painted to his strong thighs, poking out from behind the washer like a personal serving of eye candy. You’re meant to be shining the flash light, but you long abandoned that task in favor of the view.

“…you can borrow mine in the meantime. I’ll call a guy Monday.”

Reluctantly, you draw your eyes from his lower half. Just as his words sink in.

“It’s broken?!”

Robert gives you a kindly amused grin. “Sweetheart, did you hear anything I’ve been saying?”

You grace him with a sheepish smile, caught red-handed.

“The tube disconnected from the wall and needs to be properly - professionally - connected before you use it again. I know it’s not the same, but you can do laundry at mine until someone comes out. I can make you tea and we can watch that undercover dating show you like?” His soft smile is as sweet as his offer.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Hey now, you like that show too.”

Those cornflower blues shine, glad you’re not objecting. “I do, but only because it’s funny when you yell at the drama.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you away from the laundry, back to where the two of you had been trying to decide on takeout over a game of checkers. Allowing him to drag you down to the couch, hips colliding into the soft fabric, you resume a lovely afternoon with Robert.

Robert, your helpful Mr. Fix It neighbor. And maybe, one day, your boyfriend.

Robert lending you his laundry room for the weekend is so generous. It feels a bit silly carrying your delicates through his back yard (especially when you know a few pairs are crusty from your…sleepovers) but you’ll take his selfless offer if it means clean laundry and a lovely afternoon spent with him.

As you work your way past the kitchen, you’re caught off-guard once again by how charming his home is. The little bits of personality, the framed photographs and handmade trinkets. While you know he can’t get any more perfect, his home makes a compelling argument.

The laundry room is fairly unremarkable - washer, dryer, large farmhouse sink for the unsavory jobs too nasty for the kitchen - but you do like his view of the neighborhood from the window. You’re almost curious if anyone will walk by and notice you standing in the wrong house, lacy balconette bra in hand.

Already regretting the amount of folded laundry you’re going to have to haul back through the gate after this, you begin prepping a load of lace and satin. Brainstorming ways to expedite the process, you overshoot pouring detergent into the water-filled drum and spill the cobalt goo all over your hand. Shit.

You rush over to the sink, subjecting yourself to freezing water to wash the detergent off your fingers. Once sufficiently clean, you reach for a cloth to dry off. And that’s when you see it.

Oh. You’ve never seen one in real life before, just in porn and the odd naughty ad while scrolling. It almost feels as if you’re being punk’d. Like if you sliced through it, it would actually be cake.

A cock ring, soft silicone and all. Casually sitting on the sideboard, freshly cleaned.

Every muscle in your body freezes as the implications of seeing something so private wash over you. Something meant between lovers that you had never seen in the weeks since that fateful night you let him in for a cup of tea.

It’s been a few days since you had last slept over. A scary sinking feeling fills your gut…was there someone else?

You had been so focused on the neighborhood not knowing. Staying in your homes, using the back gate. It wasn’t like you had ever verbalized your intentions with him. You couldn’t blame him for thinking the two of you as casual, as much as it twisted your insides.

As your thoughts spiral, there’s motion in the doorway and Robert is suddenly there, big shoulders and a soft smile on his face at seeing you in his space. Exactly where he wants you.

“You get it going in here? Find the detergent okay?”

Those kind cobalt eyes follow your gaze to the sink, where you can’t break your focus on the dark silicone device. The one he meant to put away before you came over. His cheeks flush as he steps into the room to attempt to explain why he has something so private sitting out - in his laundry room of all places.

But as he goes to open his mouth, you cut him off. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t need to know everything in your….sex life. You’re obviously welcome to do whatever you like in the privacy of your home.”

His eyebrows raise, unsure why you seem so upset when the only issue is a clogged sink in the ensuite last night.

You edge around him, desperate to get out of this space - his space - away from everything that reminds you of him as he figuratively slips through your fingers. “We never discussed being exclusive, so I get it.”

“What are you-?”

Tears threaten to spill over as he follows you toward his back door. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with us seeing other people, so-”

Robert’s eyes bug out of his head. Seeing other people? His blood pressure rises as the dots connect behind those pretty eyes, and suddenly he’s racing to cut you off. You’re faster than you look, but before you can turn the handle of the back door he’s plastered his body against the wood, effectively blocking you from leaving.

The pain behind your eyes begs him to move, to let you run back to the safety of your own home so you can cry and despair over not locking him down sooner. Of course there’s someone else. Of course you’re not the only one who can see how great Robert Floyd is.

“Robert, I need to leave. I need a moment alone. Please.”

But he holds his ground. The second you walk through that door he knows he’s lost you. His eyes are cautious behind those thick lenses, wanting to obey your wishes but the risk of losing you making every nerve stand on end. Whatever is wrong, he can fix this. He will fix it.

“Sweetheart.” His fingers reach into the space between you, hand clenching into a fist when he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you right now. “There isn’t anyone else. I promise, you’re…you’re the only one.”

You eye him hesitantly, wanting to believe his words. But that cock ring has never made an appearance in your sleepovers. Never once brought up when he’s standing between your parted thighs, lips slotted against yours.

“I really want to believe you, I do. But why else would you be cleaning your, erm, toy?” You can’t bring yourself to say cock ring without bursting into frustrated tears.

It’s now that the fight within him drops, and immediately his shoulders release. Embarrassment floods his features and he drops his gaze, no longer able to look you in the eye. This is not how he anticipated bringing this dynamic into your relationship.

“That…it’s…I-I use it when I’m alone. I like to, uh, edge myself.”

His cheeks are flaming and the burning despair inside you dissipates into intrigue. A flame traipses through your abdomen, curious and hungry.

“You use it…alone?”

He desperately nods, tentatively reaching out to grasp your hands, needing to feel you. Those thick, strong fingers rub against your knuckles soothingly. Despite the whiplash of emotions conflicting inside you, his presence immediately soothes and you lean into his touch.

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

His blush reflects yours as you look into those ocean-deep eyes, the desperation clear across his features. He’s being honest, laying out every last secret he’s got to keep you here.

“So, there’s no one else?” Your voice feels so small, barely a whisper in the kitchen.

He shakes his head definitively, using his grip on your hands to bring you closer as he stares deep into your eyes. “There’s no one else. And the fact you would even think that means I’m not doing a good enough job proving how much I care for you. Because I like you so much, sweetheart, so, so much.”

The tension in your body breaks, and you allow yourself to lean into his strong body. His panic dissipates as he holds you to him, one arm flush against your waist as his hand holds your face to his chest. He’s never letting you go, of that he knows for sure.

He can’t believe there would be any doubt in your mind of his intentions. The sleepovers, the dinners in, the way he’s made a home between your thighs…that makes you official, doesn’t it? He’s never been one for the right words, but he was pretty sure his actions proved he was in this for the long haul.

You’re too important to mess up. To allow any seed of doubt to spread.

His nose traces along your temple, warm breath kissing the delicate skin. “Can I take you to bed, sweetheart?”

Your face lifts from his chest to take in his honest face. The loose tendril of sun-lightened brunette that’s escaped his neat hairstyle. The thin lopsided smile you trust in. Eyes behind corrected lenses that are serious and playful in the same breath.

In lieu of an answer, you mold your lips to his, drinking in his taste you’ve deprived yourself of for days. His kindness and sincerity sink into you, surrounding you the pleasantly overwhelming way his body does as he wraps around you. Holding your hips as he swallows your tongue, shifting himself to feel every dip and curve of your body.

As his lips find your neck, the laundry room comes back into view. A delicious thought swirls in your mind and the words burst from your mouth.

“Can I see?”

He nuzzles against your jaw, grinding his erection against your thigh.

“See what?” He’s distracted by how good you smell, how soft your skin feels beneath his fingers.

“I want to see you with the cock ring. Show me, please?”

Arousal floods his mind, images of you naked beneath him while his balls throb with cum just for you. No words needed before he’s pushing you in front of him to his bedroom. He’s ready to show you just how devoted he is to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, it feels like the first time with him all over again. Anticipation of the unknown, drowned in heavy lust.

His eyes rake over you as he enters the room, lust darkening those soft blue eyes. You’re exactly how he wants you always - in his bed, eager for his touch. Right now, he’s yours.

Taking the spot between your legs, strong fingers stroking along jean-clad thighs, his broad frame bends toward you to rest his forehead against yours. That button nose knocking into yours.

“There’s been no one else since the day you moved next door. I’m yours, only yours.”

The build up of emotions behind your eyes threatens to spill over as he presses his lips to yours. Cups the back of your head as he leans into you, applying the softest pressure. Pouring every ounce of his devotion into his kiss.

Your legs wrap around his slim hips, needing to feel his security and care. He’s the most helpful man to exist, and you know he’ll guide you through this dynamic.

Kisses turn sweet to frantic to passionate as Robert holds your face. Your lips are chapped when he finally pulls away, strong chest rising and deflating. You know you mirror his disheveled aroused appearance. His hand reaches behind to his back pocket.

He holds the black cock ring between you, freshly washed, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the curtains. “Are you sure about this?”

Your apprehensive eyes meet his, although a slight smile plays along your lips. “Play dirty with me. Please.”

Condensation beads on the lower rims of his glasses as he dips his face to kiss you, his skin flaming hot. The kiss is sinful yet curt, not wanting to lose himself before practicing restraint. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, savoring his flavor. He hums against your mouth as your hands find his waist, heart picking up speed as your fingers find the button of his jeans.

Robert clenches the cock ring in his fist, already struggling to hold his load as the softness of your skin wraps tightly around his hardening cock.

His eyes are lidded, thin mouth already agape from the pleasure of your fist stroking firmly up and down his shaft. Can barely keep focus between the way you squeeze his deep pink tip and the spectacular view down your top, his mind running wild at the all the skin he needs to touch. He’s practically forgotten the reason for his view until you lick your lips sweetly and ask.

“Can I put it on?”

Fingers unfurl and present the silicone ring to you, warm from his clenched fist. You press the ring between your fingers, taking in the smooth design and thick circumference. Glide your thumb along the little button that makes it vibrate.

He’s panting above you, already wrecked at the vision. The only two things he deems worthy of his cock, right in front of him.

Bringing the ring up to your lips, he watches as you run your tongue along it, gathering your saliva to glisten along the silicone for a smoother glide. Your fingers effortlessly slipping along the edge before you touch it to the sensitive tip of his cock.

His fingers curl around the nape on your neck, holding the hair there, grounding himself. Between your ministrations and the pressure of the ring slipping down his length, he’s dizzy with stimulation. His cock immediately swelling in response. Lip between his teeth to contain the gruff moans you’re desperate to hear.

Your eyes are focused on the firm grip the ring has on the length of him, sliding down until your thumb is brushing his heavy ballsack, pulsing with need.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last.” He’s panting against your forehead, trying so hard to be patient, but wanting nothing more than to thrust into your fist and chase his orgasm.

You tilt his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A promise to take care of him, because you and you alone are responsible for his pleasure. Always.

Sliding back onto the soft coverlet, you raise your hips to remove your jeans. Skin growing warm at the wanton look of need in Robert’s eyes as you unbutton your top. His voice but a whine when you sit in front of him in nothing but the delicate chain around your neck.

“So beautiful.”

It’s impossible to tell whose whimpers are more desperate as you run the shiny-slick swollen head of him against your core. Moaning as it catches on your entrance, ready to sink deep into those velvet depths. Voices becoming one as you impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s all yours.

He can’t believe anything could be better. This is Nirvana. Until you reach between to where your bodies meet and hit that tiny little button.

“Fuck!” He never swears, and yet that filthy word streaks through the room with a bite. Yelped loudly as he buries his face into your neck. The combination of vibrations and warm, tight pussy sending him into a spiral. Groaning out praises into your neck like it’s his last day alive.

You can’t help the grin on your face as you experience him come undone. How had you been denied the pleasure of watching him like this? The salt of his neck, the wayward curl stuck to his forehead? It’s a toss up if you’re getting off on being stuffed with his engorged cock or by watching the way his chest heaves for breath as he fights off his orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me?” You’re drunk on power watching him like this, rutting his hips into you over and over for a pleasure that won’t come until you decide. His nod so desperate it goes right to your clit. His swollen cock stretching you beyond what you thought possible. The frisson of skin on skin, those tiny yet powerful vibrations, and his affection for you is overwhelming.

The ring fully still in place, your orgasm wracks your body, convulsing over the sheets. Barely able to notice his soft lips brushing the arch of your breasts as he consumes your satisfaction. Drinking in the sounds of your moans as they mix with his wet thrusts.

Your sleepy eyes are all he focuses on as he chases his orgasm, fighting past his usual routine of stopping here when he only has his hand. Right now he gets to have it all - the constricted blood flow, the vibration, and you. Perfect, wonderful you. His hands fist in the bedding, rooting himself, as sinks his hips deeper with precise strokes.

He can do this. He will show you you’re the only one for him.

Body quivering, his face is bright red as he thrusts, exertion bringing the vein in his forehead out with a matching bead of sweat. Robert feels his body take on a new consciousness as you ask for his cum once more.

His grunts are filthy - animalistic and deep. The first stream of cum he’s ever experienced with the ring on filling your stretched pussy, claiming you as his. Head fuzzy, he takes a moment to pull himself from your soft embrace and jerk his engorged cock, shot after shot of cum pumping out across your body. A painting only he gets to witness.

His tank now empty, you feel the soft thump of his body fall beside yours. Hear him catch his breath in the quiet afternoon air.

Exhausted, his face knocks into yours - glasses already lost to the coverlet - as he comes to reality once again. Strong arms reaching to pull you to him. Lackadaisical kisses to your cheek before risking a glance down and laughing abashedly.

“T-there’s so much cum. It’s everywhere.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The carefree yet sheepish grin he gives you melts your heart. You kiss him back, not needing to look as you feel his seed dry on your skin in the golden hour light. He very truly marked you as his, just as he is yours.

Smoothing your fingers through his hair, memorizing every little detail of his face - what a handsome face - you ease his embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just throw the sheets in the washer and enjoy dinner. It’s fine, really.”

His washer currently filled with your delicates complicates things, but your big, sweet smile soothes his self-consciousness. He returns the grin back, holding you closer.

That night is spent eating Robert’s lasagna and playing cards until every light on the street went out. It’s far too late when the sheets are finally clean and dried, and even later when they’re successfully on the bed. But it’s worth it to him when you crawl under the duvet and beckon him closer, needing one last kiss from your boyfriend before sleep.

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jayke0 · 8 months ago

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A Pleasant Surprise

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem reader

Summary: Steven has had something on his mind for a while now, and finally he divulges his fantasy to you; degrading was certainly not on your playing cards.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: sub!Steven, dom!reader, “mommy” title, degrading, grinding, cumming in pants, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,441

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

………......................…………………………………….

When Steven had come to you with a “fun idea”, you'd expected something along the lines of ”naive uni teacher gets fucked by his student”, but this was so much better.

“Love? I have a, uh…suggestion,” Steven calls from the bathroom between brushing his teeth. “Well, it's more of a proposal, really.”

“Yeah? Go on.” You're sitting in your bedroom reading some gruesome crime novel that Marc seems to have a real distaste for.

You hear the water running briefly before your boyfriend joins you in the room, warm morning sun streaming in through the cracked curtains and casting a soft glow over his face. “I mean, we don't have to do it now of course. I know you're reading and all that, and I have to get to work in a bit–.”

You close your book and pat the edge of the bed, making him instantly respond to your gesture by placing himself down. “I'm all ears, sweetheart, lay it on me.”

Blood rushes to Steven's face as he actually thinks about saying it outloud, feet shuffling a little on the creaky floorboards. The words feel stuck in his throat now that he has to speak them, despite the fact he'd thought about the whole image on numerous occasions... and in great detail.

“Heeyy c’mon,” your hand brushes his arm, and you move closer to him to wrap your arms fully around his, crinkling his blue floral shirt. “You know I can't read your mind, Steven… Though I wish I could, that'd be super fucking helpful, then the other two couldn't lie to me.”

His chuckle makes you smile and you feel him draw in a long breath.

”I wanna like… grind against you… and I want you to mock me for it, u-until I cum… in my trousers…”

The pauses between his words are almost comical, but you look up at his face and see that he's completely serious, looking at you with wide eyes and waiting for an answer.

“Oh! Right.”

“Ah, Gods! No no... no no no no no, forget it–.” He frantically shakes his head, his hands doing the same as his face scrunches. “It's weird, I'm sorry, pretend I never said anything. Me and my big bloody mouth.”

“Steven,” you say between giggles, hand resting on his soft face to pull his gaze towards you. “It's not weird, silly! I just didn't expect you to be the one that's into degrading.” Careful not to fall back off of the bed, you climb onto his lap, thighs either side of his as you examine his expression, how gorgeous he looks with his brows knitted together and his unruly curls that Marc would definitely be gluing down with copious amounts of gel right about now.

His chest deflates as he lets out a soft sigh, resting his head on your chest out of embarrassment while you link your arms around his neck to run your fingers through the long curls at the back of his head. You feel his hands graze up your back, gliding under your night shirt and making you shiver with the warmth.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“No! Well…” he pauses, “yeah, but not in a creepy way.” The man lifts his head and looks up at you with those big doe eyes, and you watch them close as you start rolling your hips down on him slowly. You're only in your underwear underneath that shirt, but Steven is fully clothed and ready for work… or at least he would be, if his eyes weren't fluttering shut and arousal wasn't growing in his tummy.

“I promise you, darling, I like your idea.” You reassure him with your hips drawing slow circles against the material of his trousers, creating a delicious friction. “As long as you tell me if it's too much, alright?”

The bed creaks a little with your grinding before he looks up at you, nodding with a kind of desperation in his eyes that lights a fire in your gut.

“You promise?”

“Yeah love, yeah I promise.” He says, his voice a little more whiny.

You don't bother yourself with working out the psychological reasons for why your boyfriend enjoys being degraded about how long he can last, chalking it up to his masculinity, despite your reassurances that he's just as much of a man as his other two alters.

“You've got 10 minutes, think you can do that?”

Steven groans at your question, since both of you know all too well that 10 minutes is more than enough time. Still, he nods, big puppy dog eyes looking up at you and begging you to divulge in his vision.

A smirk creeps across your face when you see those glassy eyes, your gaze trailing down to the blush dusting his cheeks and the straining muscles in his neck.

“God Steven, I love the way you look at me. Look at those big soft eyes, all for mommy, aren't they?”

He lets out a whimper with the use of that title, his cock stirring in his trousers and reminding you of the thin barrier that's stopping you from grinding on the rough material of his slacks all together. The man doesn't take his gaze off of you; he drinks in every one of your features as if he's seeing you for the first time.

Rocking his hips up, he pants.

“Yes mommy, all for you, I'm all for you.”

“That's right, sweetheart, those desperate eyes are for me. that dumb little face is mine.” You lean forward and nip his bottom lip, soothing it afterwards with your tongue as he gasps and bucks his hips.

“I can feel you twitching, baby. You just can't help it, can you? Always getting so worked up and hard when I'm around, maybe I should put this pretty cock in a cage, what do you think?”

Steven's shoulders drop as he leans forward into your neck, biting and sucking any skin he can get his mouth on while his hot breath and whimpers raise goosebumps over your skin.

The suction he had in your neck is broken as his head is suddenly jerked backwards, your grip tight in his hair and making him whimper pathetically.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he tries to suppress his moans, his head nodding wildly. “Yes mommy, I'd– agh–I'd love that.” His hips buck again.

“Mhm.. then you'd at least last longer than 5 minutes, you'd actually be able to fuck me properly.”

Steven's mouth hangs agape, his eyes now squeezed shut as his grip on your hips tighten and he guides your hips down on him harder, wanting more, anything.

“Sh–it… Ah- Feels so good.” His eyebrows knit together in a beautifully strained way. “More, gimme more–.”

You tut with a small smirk on your lips, rocking back and forth to coat his trousers in your own arousal that's seeped through your underwear.

“Oh, look at you, you gonna cum in your pants, baby? Gonna prove how pathetic you are to mommy?” You feel the muscles in his shoulders and back tighten. “C'mon sweetheart, cum for me, ruin those pants.”

Sweet moans and whimpers tumble from the man's rosy lips as he finally lets go, staining his boxers enough that you feel the wetness as it soaks a spot on his trouser leg.

His grip on your hips loosens, but he doesn't stop whimpering, soft babbles and huffs escaping his throat as he calms down. You stroke his head, combing your fingers through his hair as your hips slow. “Good boy, you're such a good boy, Steven.” You smile brightly at him, despite the fact his eyes are still shut.

They only flutter open when he feels your hand stroking his cheek and tilting his head down.

“Are you ok, baby? How do you feel?”

His cheeks are flushed bright red still, beads of sweat sitting on his forehead from the warmth of his button-up shirt. A smile cracks across his face as he nods shyly, “I'm ok– great, yeah.. I'm great, actually.”

“You sure? I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?”

He shakes his head and tilts face to kiss your palm. “No, you didn't, love. I promise.”

His eyes drift down to the wet patch on his trousers, your eyes following as you chuckle softly.

“Should probably change…” He mumbles while resting his head on your shoulder.

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea.” You place a kiss on his neck as you embrace him, ignoring the fact that he will most definitely be late to work… again.

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

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @rinverse @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mooksmouse @cupidysm

#moon knight #moon knight system #moon boys #steven grant #moon knight smut #steven grant smut #oscar isaac characters #steven grant x reader

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thru-the-grapevine · 29 days ago

Text

Deep End

Pairing: Choi Soobin x fem!reader

Summary: Soobin thinks you could be the most dangerous thing to ever happen to him, if he let you (or: not even the ambience of a city rooftop can distract Soobin from you).

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags/Warnings: mature content (minors dni), pwfwp (porn with feelings without plot), public sex, established relationship, man is a simp

Author’s Note: the lovely @chanis-banani has allowed me to post the birthday gift I made for her 🥰 I played myself by writing it for her because now I’m kinda nuts about him too. Whoops.

Soobin has never been a particularly possessive or territorial person before, so he’s unprepared for how it feels to see you in his shirt.

He watches you in the reflection of the hotel elevator, mesmerized. The shirt is a button-down, oversized even on Soobin. He’d helped you roll up each sleeve four times just to give your wrists some breathing room, and from how it fits on you, it gives the appearance that it’s the only thing you’re wearing at all. He’s trying very hard not to stare at your bare legs, focusing in on your little painted toenails to try and stay respectful. He’s not sure if it’s working. Nothing feels respectful about the way he looks at you these days.

The two of you are on a weekend trip to the city together, seizing the opportunity for quality time alone during a rare time when neither of you have anything in your schedules. You’d suggested pretending it was a fancy weekend, and Soobin had taken you at your word and sprung for a nicer hotel than usual, particularly because of how your face had lit up at the idea of a rooftop pool.

The two of you are on the way to this pool now, and instead of wearing normal clothes over your swimsuit, you’d insisted on borrowing one of his shirts. He’d agreed without really thinking about it, and once the sleeves were rolled up you’d declared it was perfect.

Soobin can’t disagree, either, because he can’t stop looking at you in it. Something about it being your idea makes it even better. He likes the way you look in it, but in a way he didn’t expect. Some sort of base instinct in his gut is glowing, seeing you in something of his.

Then again, you’ve always fascinated him, even before the two of you began seeing each other. You’ve always lit up every room he sees you in, something about how you carry yourself drawing the klutzy moth of him to you like flame. He’s never wanted to know so much about another person before. He loves learning every little thing that makes you laugh, that makes you chatty, that incites reactions in you.

He can’t believe he convinced you to say yes when he asked you out, amazed you allowed him to keep coming back for more. He feels like a naturalist who got outrageously lucky enough to get close to their favorite beloved wildlife, like he has to drink in and take note of everything he can get of you in case you spook and flee. Like he can puzzle out the mystery of you if he studies you closely enough.

You catch him staring in the reflection and make a silly face. He grins and makes one back, shifting closer to you and watching his reflection drape an arm over your shoulders. He’s realizing recently how often you draw him in, how he’s always looking for reasons to be as close to you as he can. If he really was a moth, he’d be scorched to a crisp by now.

He can feel you practically vibrating with excitement as the two of you step out onto the roof. There’s a huge grin on your face as you gaze around with eyes so big that Soobin knows you wish you had more of them to take it all in.

“Not too shabby, then?” He asks, charmed at the way you flit from place to place, exploring.

“What do you mean, not too shabby? It’s perfect,” you gush, gesturing from thing to thing and bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Look at the view, ugh, it’s so—and the pool? It’s perfect, the water is so pretty, it’s all so pretty here at night, look at all the other buildings lit up, I’m just—!”

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, face still aglow. “Okay. Calming down.”

He grins, making his way to a chaise lounge near the pool and sitting. “That’s the spirit.”

“Why is it so empty up here on a night like this?” You wonder, staring up and around at the nearby buildings and night sky.

A private smile twitches at the corner of Soobin’s mouth. “Yeah, seems way too nice out not to be up here.”

“Definitely nice enough to swim,” you muse, turning to him and batting your eyes once. “You’ll swim with me, right?”

It was never a question that he would, but Soobin feigns uncertainty. “Hmm...”

“Just for a little bit,” you insist, shoulders slumping, and he can’t help laughing.

“’Course, that’s why we came up here.”

You pout at him, making your way over to his chair. “Rude.”

He watches you approach, endeared at the little frown line between your brows when you pout, how it makes your lips even more distracting. “You’re just easy to bother.”

You make a face at him. “Just for that, you can have your shirt back.”

His mouth goes a little dry when your hands go to the top button, fiddling.

“Oh no, please, anything but that,” he tries to deadpan, but his voice rasps.

You roll your eyes, amused, as you pop the first button. “Perv.”

He can’t even refute you. It’s like erotic torture, watching you unbutton the shirt—his shirt; god, that really is doing things to him. The buttons are on the opposite placket than you’re used to, which means you move slower, and Soobin watches in an agony of lust as inch after inch of your skin is revealed.

You shrug the shirt off when it’s finally unbuttoned, tossing it into his lap and wandering to the edge of the pool. He tries to get himself back under control, but your swimsuit leaves so much less to the imagination than anything else he usually sees you wear that it’s impossible.

You look back over your shoulder at him, pausing on the steps descending into the water. “You coming?”

He nods, dazed.

You raise an eyebrow, smirk teasing the corners of your mouth. “You good?”

That depends heavily on what “good” means. He considers saying this, knows you’ll enjoy the philosophical banter, but when he opens his mouth his throat is too dry to speak. He shuts his mouth and clears his throat, giving up. “I...yeah. Great.”

His face feels hot when you wink at him, tip of your tongue between your teeth. Jesus.

He watches you wade down into the pool and tries to think of boring things, like taxes and bylaws and coding instructions, anything but how breathtaking every inch of you is. It doesn’t work, especially when you dip beneath the surface briefly, then come back up, swiping your hair back from your face more flawlessly than any model.

“Water’s fine,” you murmur, and something in your expression makes him think you’re fully aware that he’s wrapped around your little finger.

Maybe the water will clear his head. He grabs the scruff of his shirt and yanks it over his head. “Coming.”

He doesn’t bother with the steps, heads straight for the deep end and hops in. The cool water is a welcome shock to his system, as well as the muted quiet of underwater. He lingers near the bottom, waiting until his lungs ache for air to push back towards the shallow end.

When he resurfaces, you’re floating on your back, gazing up at the night sky. He swipes his hair out of his face and rises to his full height, angling to see you better. You have your mouth pursed in a specific way to keep from inhaling water, and your hair splays out around your head in the water in gentle, undulating waves, Medusa-style. There are little twinkling reflections in your eyes of the world you’re drinking in above you. Bliss in your face.

Oh no, a voice in the back of Soobin’s mind says, and looking at you feels like he’s made of glass and is being shoved off a high ledge. But Soobin can’t bring himself to be frightened, can only concentrate on the pleasant swoop in his stomach as he plummets. He thinks he might enjoy being shattered by you.

You jerk in surprise when you catch him watching you, a thrash of water. “Jesus.”

He feels a grin tugging at his lips. “Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all.

“Why are you just standing there staring, you weirdo?” You move upright again, and your mad scientist hair flattens into a streaming curtain down your back. Pale blue pool light reflects in little waves over your skin, and Soobin would believe someone in this moment if they told him you were a water goddess.

He can’t tear his gaze away from you, still grinning like a fool. “You’re interesting.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing smile back on your face.

“Interesting, huh.”

“Mhm.” He starts wading your way at that dreamlike pace water always demands. Moth, meet flame.

“Me, or my tits?”

“I—that wasn’t what—” Soobin stammers. “What—I hadn’t even looked at—”

And he hadn’t, truly. Except of course they’re now at the forefront of his mind, now that you’ve mentioned them, and invisible magnetism keeps tempting his gaze down, a losing fight with the thought of them right at the top of his brain, and now he’s noticing your chest, half-submerged, the gleam of soaked skin and droplets in tantalizing places, noticing the wet cling of swimsuit fabric to curving soft skin. He wonders how it might feel to glide his hands over and under and around, whether you would feel cool or warm under his mouth, and his mind hadn’t been on this track two seconds ago, it really hadn’t...

He hears you snort, tears his gaze back to your face, schoolboy guilt bunched in his stomach.

“Mmhmm,” you say, unbelieving. Your pleased little grin eases the shame, a balm on his heart.

“Yah, I really wasn’t,” he protests. “...but now that you mention it...”

Your snicker is cute, everything about you is so cute, and when did this happen, how did this happen, how did you become the most irresistible thing in Soobin’s world without him catching whiff of it before?

You surprise him when you lunge for him when he’s close enough, your arms flinging around his neck, soft mouth covering his. Like kissing him is a relief, like to you he’s something special, something to look forward to. He’s not going to question why, even if his own appeal to you puzzles him, just pulls you closer with his hands on your hips and kisses you back.

You pull back far too quickly, and he frowns, missing you already. He’s immediately distracted, though, at the delicate feeling of your fingertips ruffling in the soggy strands of his hair.

“Thanks for springing for this place,” you murmur, grateful little smile on your face. “I love it.”

“’Course, baby,” he hums, trying not to feel too smug for nailing it. All of it was worth it just for this.

Your gaze follows a droplet of water traveling down his neck and over his chest. One of your hands leaves his hair, tracing the wing of his collarbone gently.

“You’re really hot when you’re all wet,” you admit, floating off your feet and hooking your legs around his waist.

Your positioning immediately stokes his carnal interest. He blinks, dazed grin spreading slowly over his face.

“Only when I’m all wet?” He teases, hands on a slow glide from your hips to cup beneath your thighs, holding you in place.

You tsk at him, fingers still playing in slow, hypnotic patterns through his hair and over his chest. “Fishing for compliments? Don’t tell me you don’t hear them all the time. We know what you look like.”

He loves watching your mouth when you talk. The shape of your lips is something he’s constantly cataloguing for long-term memory, both from looking at and feeling them with his own.

“I only ever want your compliments,” he says absently, thumbs drawing little circles on your thighs, completely mesmerized. “They’re the only ones that count.”

He can see the reflection of the flickering surface of the pool in your eyes. Something thrills in his chest when the edges of your smile turn a little shy.

“Flirt,” you murmur, leaning in closer.

He blinks, drawing the tip of his nose along yours slowly. He can’t remember what he said. He should try to remember, should take it down to use later, but you’re quite literally hanging all over him and you’re all wet in a swimsuit and your mouth is only inches away and he is not God’s strongest soldier, after all.

He leans down and fastens his mouth over yours, kissing you like he has all the time in the world. It’s quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do, finding all the ways your mouths can fit together. He teases the tip of his tongue along your lower lip, heart racing when you sigh into his mouth and open for him. God. The taste of you, mingled with pool water and the lip balm you’d borrowed from him earlier, is enough to turn off all the thoughts in his brain.

Mouth still playing over yours, he wades slowly backward, inching towards the pool steps, crouching as the water gets shallow to keep you both weightless in the water. His heel knocks against the bottom step and he stumbles back, kiss breaking as he sits down hard.

Your little giggle goes straight to his crotch for reasons he can’t decipher. He grins, sheepish, lifts himself up to sit on the next-highest step, reaching for your hips and reeling you back in. You straddle his lap without him even having to ask, more proof to his mind that you’re perfect, and when he tilts his chin up you meet him halfway.

Everything about you in his arms feels right, and Soobin feels something unidentifiable deep within him settling into place. All his senses are honed in on you, on your mouth moving with his, on the gentle chaos of your breath, on the soft suppleness of you relaxing into him as he kisses you with slow, consuming ardor. His hands slide in restless patterns over you, and eventually his mouth parts from yours and drags along the line of your jaw.

“For the record,” he murmurs, pausing to nip softly at your earlobe, “you’re really hot when you’re all wet, too.”

Your laugh is breathless, a bolt of heat to his gut. “Only when I’m all wet?”

“Especially when you’re all wet,” he whispers, nuzzling against the hollow beneath your ear, savoring how you shiver.

Your skin is cool beneath his mouth, and he makes it a personal mission to warm it again, openmouthed kisses gliding smooth and wet and hot along the expanse of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, the wing of your collarbone. He feels you hum and relax further into his lap, tension in your muscles melting you closer against him, candle wax near open flame. He marvels innocently at how incredibly silky you are, even over firmer places, how there’s a hint of you behind the chlorine on your skin, and he needs more of it, feels an itch in his brain for more you in his senses.

“Hey,” you protest halfheartedly as he fumbles with the ties of your swimsuit top. “This is a public pool, someone could come up.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, hearing the words purely at a sound level, feeling the ties come loose in his hands with a slithery tickle. He nuzzles into the inside curve of your breast, nudging fabric away from wet skin, mouth slipping along the plush undercurve. Pure fascination wins out as he opens his mouth wider, bites, sucks.

He feels you twitch in surprise at the feeling, soothes his hands along your back in half-apology, laser-focused on the feel, the taste of you in his mouth. You’re sensitive here, not as excruciatingly sensitive as your nipples, but that just means he doesn’t have to be as careful, can let his curiosity at the feeling of you win unrestricted.

He continues nibbling and sucking in that spot, slides a hand around to your front and tugs the now-loose top away, tossing it behind him blindly. He feels your hands tighten on his shoulders when he settles his hand back on you, cupping your other breast. He eases the pad of his thumb in gentle circles over your areola, mesmerized at the way the skin puckers and tightens to a point under the lazy caress. He hears you swallow back a moan, feels one of your hands slide up and weave fingers through his hair, and that base instinct deep in his gut puffs its chest knowing that he affects you like this.

He lifts his mouth from your skin with a crude pop, other hand sliding from your back to brush a thumb over the hickey. He knows you love when he leaves them on your neck, but it still makes him shy to know other people will see them and make assumptions about what your love lives are like. This one, however, on this pillowy curve of skin that only the two of you get to see, is right up his alley. Satisfied with how dark it is already, he nuzzles your breast and settles his mouth over your nipple.

The little noise you make is adorable, and Soobin finds himself smiling against your skin. He traces his tongue over the budding peak, unhurried, takes your other nipple between his fingers and pinches until you gasp. He can’t resist rolling it slowly between his fingers, twisting one way and then the other as he circles the other in lazy circles with his tongue.

He hears a frayed whimper in your throat, the helpless wriggle of your hips against his inflaming him further. He’s never been addicted to a person before, but he’s hooked on you for sure, wants to take inventory of every inch of you, every reaction he can incite, every texture and scent and movement. He drags his mouth to your other breast and kisses your poor abused nipple gently, massages it better with his tongue as his hand takes over the one he left behind.

All of you drowns his senses—the cool slipperiness of your skin, the little whines you sigh out, the way you keep cinching yourself closer to him, burying your face against his hair, agonizing friction in your laps. He can’t stop himself from groping your ass and tucking your hips in tighter against his, fascinated by the feeling of your muscles twitching and contracting with desire.

He makes a noise of surprise when your hand in his hair tightens and yanks, angling his face up to yours. You crush your mouth over his, and his hands are immediately all over you, roaming restless paths over every inch of you he can reach, urging you closer. He wants to drown in you, be consumed by you, devour you with all five senses at once and then more.

It’s not enough. He wrenches his mouth from yours, panting, tapping your hip.

“Up,” he pants.

You hesitate only a second before moving off of his lap. He stands quickly and takes your hand, sloshing his way up the remaining steps and out of the pool with you in tow.

You seem to be on the same wavelength, to an extent, matching his pace as he makes his way over to the chairs with your things on them. He guides you in front of him, a twinge of fondness in his chest at the sight of your arm attempting to cover your chest, as if that doesn’t just make them look especially sumptuous, and he wants his hands back on you, wants to test how squishable—

“Down,” he pants, hand nudging your shoulder until you sit on the chaise, then nudging again until you lie back. His other hand is already untying your swim bottoms, one side and then the other, gaze laser-focused as he leans in and presses a kiss low on your abdomen, parting your legs.

“I—wait, ‘Binnie,” you protest, hand coming to his head. “Stop—we are outside, someone could look out a window and see—”

“Don’t care,” he mumbles against your skin, mouth already gliding along the inside of your thigh. The looming buildings nearby, the vague hum of city life stories below, the night sky, the pool, everything is in a foggy haze in Soobin’s mind. His only focus is you, on how downy soft you are, how you shiver as his tongue darts out to catch at water droplets on your skin.

“Easy for you to say, you’re still wearing someth—ah,” you squeak as Soobin yanks your now-completely untied bottoms away, balling them up absently in one hand and hurling them to oblivion. “Wait, I’m serious, Soobinnnnnnngh.”

He groans into the apex of your thighs, mouth open wide and tongue flattened along as much of you as possible. God, yes, this is exactly what he’s after, concentration and essence of you overwhelming his senses. Slowly, he curls the tip of his tongue, dragging his mouth up, the motion gently parting wet layers of inner softness. You slap a hand over your mouth, moaning as the tip of his tongue laves over the sensitive crest at the very peak, and he lingers there for a moment, leaving an openmouthed kiss.

Blindly, he fumbles above him, finding your arm and pulling your hand away from your mouth, anchoring your wrist to the chaise. He feels your other hand tighten hard in his hair as he continues leaving wet, sucking kisses all over the sensitive tucks and pleats of flesh, working you up with ruthless patience.

He daydreams about this more often than he cares to admit, even more so when the two of you are apart, and he’s determined to learn and implement the way you like it best, the way that makes you lose all sense of shame. Admittedly, he gets a little carried away in part because you’ve told him your former partners were merely passable at eating you out. His competitive streak, combined with this growing obsession with you, make him determined to be extra attentive whenever you grant him this opportunity.

It’s difficult to stay focused, though, the hot and wet feel of you on his mouth, the taste of you on his tongue, enough to make him delirious. He easily gets lost in the savoring, mapping every inch of you under his tongue, lingering in places just because it makes you tremble and whine like you’re desperate for him, and he wants you just as desperate for him as he feels about you.

He hums into you, delighted, when your legs close in around his head as he closes his mouth over your clit and sucks. Everything goes muffled, even the little moans of his name you’re trying to bite back, but it hardly matters when he can feel your limbs shaking, feel you hot and throbbing against his mouth. You start trying to buck your hips into his face, and he slides his free arm over your abdomen and pins you down, steadying you both. He tongues over you in wet, languid strokes, feels the clenching flutter of the entrance into your body. Pure fascination drives him again, and he strokes you there again, stiffening his tongue and driving it into you.

Oh, god. The tight, blistering heat of you, the taste, nearly unmans him. He moans into you, guttural, and nearly loses his mind at the way he can feel your inner muscles fluttering and clenching rhythmically on his tongue like a heartbeat.

The overwhelming need to make you come slams into him like a tidal wave. He’s determined now, anchoring you in place and delving his tongue into you in delicately aggressive thrusts, nuzzling into you deeper and deeper. He can hear you whining even with your thighs muffling his ears, the sound increasingly desperate, and he wants to give you anything in the whole world that you want, would roll over and bark if you asked, so he doubles his efforts and slides his mouth back up to suck and tongue at that most sensitive bud, wringing sensation like raw honey from the comb.

He wonders for a brief moment if he could come just like this, completely untouched with his face buried between your legs, moaning into you like your pleasure is his own, and if that makes him a munch then so be it. And then you tense and tighten against him for a full moment and the pleasure uncoils, your whole body arching and shuddering in euphoria. He shoves his tongue back into you and moans, lightheaded at each of the siphoning ripples of fulfillment pulling him in deeper, drunk on the little sobs of pleasure you make.

God. He’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to be wrapped up in you right the fuck now. He eases you through the quaking pulses of ecstasy and starts fumbling with the drawstring of his swimsuit, taking care not to touch himself for fear of blowing his load in his pants like a teenager. Raw need claws at his insides like a rabid animal, desire to make sure everything is perfect for you warring against his impatience, his craving to skip over things like a condom and gentleness and—

Condom. Oh. He remembers reminding himself to grab one, remembers seeing the box of them tucked into his bag and knowing one would be needed, and yet here he is, empty-handed. Fuck.

“We have to go back to the room,” he groans, leaning back and mopping his chin with the back of his hand. “Now. I need to be in you more than I need to live another day.”

Through your pleasured exhaustion, a lazy smile forms on your lips. You shake your head, glancing over and gesturing at his dress shirt you’d borrowed.

“Don’t need to go back downstairs,” you breathe, and fuck, your post-orgasm voice is devastatingly sexy. “Get the shirt, I brought a condom.”

He blinks at you, once, twice, not comprehending. “You...”

Color flushes over your skin prettily. “I...I thought it never hurts to be prepared. For anything.”

Soobin is trying to process that you’ve had a plan for being up here that involves a condom. Dazed, he glances over at the neighboring chaise, reaches for the shirt.

“Is there a condom...in the shirt...?”

Your breathless giggle ties his insides into little knots.

“You didn’t notice the weird shape in the breast pocket earlier?” You ask, eyes crinkled in mirth.

Through the haze of oh my god she wants us to fuck, Soobin finds it in him to be indignant again. “I wasn’t looking at—I was trying not to look, you know, at...”

He huffs a sigh as he extracts the condom from the shirt pocket, unable to stay annoyed even as you keep giggling at him.

“Here I was trying to be respectful,” he tsks, smiling even as his ears grow hot.

You snort. “Ah yes, the respectful boyfriend that strips his girlfriend at a public pool and commits sex acts on her where anyone could stumble in on them.”

“No one’s going to stumble in,” Soobin breathes, trying to make his hands dry enough to tear the condom packet open.

“What do you mean?”

“Pool’s closed,” he says, giving up and tearing at the packet with his teeth.

“The pool is closed? Are we going to get in trouble for—”

“It’s not really closed,” he says. “I just paid the front desk to tell the rest of the hotel guests that it’s closed.”

You stare at him for so long in stunned silence that he starts feeling a little antsy. “You bribed the hotel...so you could have sex with me?”

“I would bribe anyone with anything to spend even five platonic minutes alone with you,” he protests, fumbling the condom out of the wrapper.

He stills when you grab his wrist, arresting him with your stare. There’s something at work behind your eyes, something he doesn’t know the name for.

“What?” He whispers.

After a long moment, you swallow. “Nothing. I just...no, nothing. Here, let me.”

You keep eye contact as you slip the condom out of his hand, and he shivers when your other hand brushes down his abdomen. His breath stutters when you take hold of him, and he feels himself twitch in your hand after going so long neglecting himself.

If he doesn’t redirect his attention he may still finish before he can even get inside you. “People might—might still be able to see from windows,” he stammers as you roll the condom on, spreading your legs.

You shrug a shoulder, abashed smile still on your face. “If they see, they see,” you breathe.

Sometimes you make him breathless.

“Remind me not to believe you,” he murmurs, settling himself between your legs, “when you say you’re too shy to do this out in the open.”

You laugh as he drags his tip over you, catching on your entrance. “Don’t push it, this is a special ca—ohh.”

Ohh, indeed. Soobin moans and drops his forehead against your temple, feeling what little remains of his sanity obliterating the further inside he eases into you. You’ve been intimate like this before, but no matter how prepared Soobin thinks he is, every time feels like the first time all over again. Nothing ever truly prepares him for the scalding hot, wet glide into unimaginable tightness, for how even when you’re relaxed, he has to bully himself into you inch by inch. He’s shaking with the effort to be gentle, nudges his hips slowly until bit by bit, all of him is enveloped snugly inside.

“How can you feel this perfect,” he groans, most of the willpower left at his disposal exerted on lasting, good god he needs to last even just to feel you around him like this for longer—

You laugh again, breathless, and the way that feels when you’re connected like this is sinfully good. “I try.”

“No you don’t,” he gasps, rocking his hips gingerly into yours. “You just are.”

You whimper as the angle of his hips drives him into a sensitive place inside of you. He grinds into the spot again, careful, his restraint threadbare but hanging on.

“Please,” you pant, hitching your knees further up, and the adjustment of angle forcing him even deeper.

Soobin nearly chokes on his own tongue. Fuck. He thrusts like he’s afraid of himself, mantra of don’t come don’t come don’t come flooding the forefront of his mind, sheer force of will.

“I won’t break,” you plead, voice so breathy and fucked-out it belongs in high-end porn. Sweet merciful god, he can’t do this.

He feels your mouth drag along his shoulder, and then a flash of sharpness. His body reacts to the bite before his mind can catch up, hips surging hard against yours, strangled noise punching out of his throat. Your legs tighten around him, intimate muscles clenching in that way that means hell yes, and the groan from deep in his chest is inevitable as he snaps his hips again. Fuck.

Yeah, okay, he can do this for you. That base instinct in his gut purrs like a feral dragon at the way you can no longer hide your moans, being fucked like this. His new goal now is to build stamina, he’s determined, needs to be able to do you exactly how you want it for hours without stopping. He thinks he might be moaning too but he can’t hear, so preoccupied with drinking in every clench of your muscles around him, every little pleasured expression on your face, addiction to every part of you wrapped around him like this so intense he feels lightheaded.

He can’t tell if you’re shaking or he is, only knows you’re pulling him in like you aren’t already as close as it is humanly possible to be, like that somehow isn’t enough, like you can meld yourselves into a singular being if you try hard enough. Your fingernails dig hard into his shoulders, your breath stuttering in that way that tells him just what’s coming next, and then you shatter around him.

You become impossibly tighter around him, bearing down with rhythmic spasms luring him deeper inside, as if that’s even possible, like he hasn’t been working himself as deep into you as he can go, purely for selfish reasons. He never wants to leave, would live inside you if he could, and he loves that you get like this with him, loves the way you go soft and pliant when the release begins ebbing, god, he loves—

His release hits him with no warning, no buildup, hard as a bullet train. Fuck. It feels like nothing that’s ever happened to him before, and a stab of panic electrocutes him through the feeling. His ears are ringing, alarm bells tolling danger in his bones, and he feels out of control, completely gone, glass making impact at last and shattering into far-flung pieces, impossible to gather again. It’s all he can do to gasp for breath, clutching at you like handfuls of sand that keep slipping away, hips rocking into you, slow, rhythmic, with a mind of their own.

Your arms slide around his back, warm pressure like an anchor point, and just with that, with your tight embrace and each deep breath you take, you’ve found each piece of him, binding him back together. Only now the essence of you fills in the cracks, the healing balm, each sinew of him now limned with your glow. A moth made of flame.

Soobin tries to take as even breaths as possible, tries to sound calm, rests his face against the chaise next to your face and feels a hot stinging drip from his eyelashes.

He knows what that look in your eyes was earlier, he realizes. The unidentifiable emotion. He knows because it’s clicking for him right now, the knowledge that he feels that way, too.

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yuellii · 1 year ago

Text

flawless night, forevermore

feat. ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, childe, kaveh, raiden ei ( separate )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they are so obviously in love with you

( or, in which i tie them to a taylor song i’ve been crazing over, but you don’t have to know the songs to read / understand )

note. reader’s gender unspecified, no other warnings

> part one / part two ( more characters )

KAMISATO AYATO. lover

His lips curled up with a fathomless fondness he did not even notice about himself. His ticklish gaze, his admiring eyes, his comforting silence—such a poor, poor man drowning in his hopelessness, falling love struck into the night.

Even atop the dewy grass that stained his carefully tailored clothes, he paid no mind to the mess as he preferred to hear you talk instead. The intelligence of a Kamisato was long forgone in the melody of your voice, and perhaps you had strum his heartstrings too much to the point he loses his senses. He forgets a lot of things about himself when he’s with you, perhaps at one point, even his own name.

Kamisato, the name that ties him to a lifetime of formality and not a single night of rest. A dreary lifetime that does not allow him to learn the wonders of love. But oh, how he loves you.

“I’ve always wanted one of those cute little tea tables,” you muttered into the cool winds under the glowing moon. Your finger absentmindedly traced an oval into the air, a motion that had his head following your invisible drawing. “We can sit together in the mornings and have tea before work.”

“Then we’ll get one,” Ayato affirmed. He failed to notice how his own grin had widened, simply as an automatic reaction from seeing your pleased smile at his response. “Little cushions for us to sit in, too,” he added on. “You know those round ones? We can have them in our favorite colors.”

Look at him, blushing over silly cushions.

There’s a dazzling haze in his eyes when he’s like this. It’s a spark that never runs out once ignited, for he has a history of rambling when he’s with you. “There is this porcelain tea set we can get, which has a pattern I know you’ll like,” he’ll say, further jumping to “And it comes in a set of four—we can always invite Ayaka and Thoma over to drink with us.” He’ll go on and on like this, fantasizing of a life where you lived together, happily ever after.

He’s imagined this for eons in his head. Such innocent-presenting ideas and remarks, but it’s obvious in the way he talks so fast. It’s ridiculously evident the more excited he gets as the night stretches on, that he’s been daydreaming of the moment you move in with him, so he may love you every day.

All he asks is to be forever yours, for as long as time permits.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

BAIZHU. sparks fly

It almost never rained in Liyue.

But his words were such a booming thunderstorm that no water droplet could ever compare, even amidst this cold, grey afternoon. And only when he finally blew you away like a thin stack of cards, did he feel a sharp sense of emptiness at the sight of you running off into the pouring rain.

Baizhu admitted that you were a burden to him. Boring, unintelligent, annoying—that you were a hindrance to be around. You were only a distraction to Qiqi, and more importantly, a bothersome presence to him.

It took all his willpower just to spit such venom from his tongue straight to your face—all his might just to convince you that seeing him is a bad idea. And yet, you still called him a liar.

“You mean none of those words,” you sharply inhaled via short, speechless breaths. He could tell you were breaking down from his hateful speech, but to his guilt, it was exactly what he wanted to see from you. “You’re just trying to drive me away again,” you spat out. You were trying to convince yourself: that fact alone was clear to him. But the longer he stayed quiet despite biting back the truth—biting back that he has fallen so immensely deep in love with you—you began to doubt yourself.

But the moment he watched your figure break down past this storm, he immediately crumbled with a sense of guilt much stronger than any curse he has ever wished upon himself.

Perhaps he was too harsh on you. Archons, perhaps he was too mean—this was exactly why he didn’t deserve you. You deserved better than such a sick, lowly man who could not even live for himself, instead binding his life to save others instead.

But still, even after all his own revelations and realization of his nonexistent self worth…

He was still a greedy, selfish man.

And that selfishness had him running right out of his door and into the pouring rain, not caring at how the sudden cold nipped and picked at his skin, or how the winds beat at his frail body. Not even the Archons could halt such a starvation for salvation—it was the only spark he had left to chase.

In this cold, dreary life—in this cold, dreary day alone—you still shone like the sun under the dim streetlights of Liyue upon this pale grey sky. His body still eased the moment you caught his eye, almost as if your gaze alone had suddenly removed every drop of sickness he self-injected into his own bloodstream, or as if you were the cure he was looking for all his life.

Such selfishness once again had his body fighting from collapsing when he desperately fell into your arms that held him so dearly. And the greed of mankind only snapped when found his lips settled so hopelessly against yours, clinging onto your kiss as if he would die tonight.

Truly, maybe he would. But for now, in your embrace, he feels the strongest he’s ever been since he sold his soul.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

ALHAITHAM. enchanted

Archons, he hated these events, though he had no choice but to attend. No one could ever allow the Acting Grand Sage, even if he held so much spite, to escape the demeaning eyes of Sumerean publicity.

Alhaitham held himself as an independent soul. But this formalwear, this clanging of champagne glasses, this suffocating air—were definitely not so independent nor free.

This hall of aspiring young scholars and old men, all in one exhibit for the sake of research and networking. Academics is what they acclaim, but the Acting Grand Sage may be too thick of a personality for them (if he had one at all). But the only thing keeping his eyes open from boredom, quite surprisingly a person, was you.

You, who looked young compared to these much older alumni and long-time scholars. And it was truly you, out of the many faces in this room, who he could not name.

Your eyes met from across the room. Such a sliver of a chance—his eyes whispered a curious glance from the opposite wall among this dreary sea of scholars. There was a spark graced by the Electro Archon, perhaps; or maybe even a gush of wind from the God of Anemo. But every sense of composure was lost when his body moved on its own, walking himself closer and closer just to meet you.

It begins with hello; it always does. It continues with quick remarks, with “I’ve never seen you before,” and with “Have we met?” And soon enough, he feels like he’s in school again. He feels a flutter he has not known in years, an urge to talk quicker than he can think. The crinkle at the corner of your eyes has him immersed in amazement. The sole fact that you can crack a smile at him; a smile that wasn’t fake politeness like all these scholars.

For some reason unbeknownst to him, that expression of yours alone had his feet glued to the floor, like you’ve trapped him in such an engaging conversation he desperately could not let go. It was a forcibly dreadful night—you turned it flawlessly enchanting in a way that you read to him like a book, all in which he could not put you down once he begins.

And once the event ends, and he is forced to leave you so soon, he watches you walk away with an expression that he himself could not even read.

Wonderstuck.

He would never notice the light tint on his face, staining his cheeks all the way home.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

CHILDE. cruel summer

Left foot, right foot, tiptoe, right foot—hold the counter, hold the wall, hold the rail all the way up the steps… He’s got this.

One step down the hall, another foot down, a third one until he finds a steady rhythm. The room is hazy, the walls are spinning. His head hurts and he feels like a baby taking his first steps, so helpless and unsteady that he almost wants to cry again from exasperated frustration alone. Why was this so hard? Did he really hate himself so much, that he would stagger his way home from the bar like this?

One hand on the door, turn the knob, and—

Ah. He dropped his keys so loudly on the floor.

You woke up with a start from the bedside, immediately turning to him wide-eyed in both starling surprise from the noise, and more importantly, concern. He didn’t mean to wake you. He hated feeling guilty, but it was the exact feeling that crept up his spine once he saw the devastated look on your face. Frenzied eyes and dark circles—clearly you had stayed up just to wait for him, too.

“Ajax,” you voiced—a tone full of worry and heavy exhaustion, God, he felt so horrible. “Oh, Ajax, come here.”

As much as he didn’t like it when you cared for him like this, he was not immune to the sounds of your calling. His shaky legs carried him immediately, as if the alcohol in his system was pulling him towards you, too. “I’m fine,” he barely stuttered out. It was a claim he had to make immediately, a sign he was desperate to reassure you.

Your eyes grew heavier, though he did not know if they were lidded from concern or from sleepiness. Either way, he practically melted from the touch of your palms resting against his cheeks. So warm, but a much more pleasant warmth than the burning summer air that he just walked in, all the way home with a liquor-dazed mind.

“Have you been crying…?” Ah, and that was why your eyes were narrow—they were squinting at the sorry stains of tears that lined his cheeks. He forgot to wipe them, it seemed. It was almost laughable.

“No, just sweat from the heat.”

Crying over you… He’d never let you know that. To cry, to bleed, to die—you would never be the first person he tells.

“You reek of liquor…” Quite disgustingly so, he thinks. And yet, you still held his face so fondly, moving his head in such a gentle manner as you swiped his tear stains with the pads of your thumbs.

He stayed silent. He had no answer to this one.

“I love you,” he mutters, though it’s a confession nevertheless. And he says it so sadly—so miserably that you couldn’t help but sigh. He hates it, too. He hates it when you sigh. Because when you sigh, it means you’ll just let it go; No matter how many lies he tells, or how many times he cries, or how many secrets he keeps, you’ll still accept him like always.

“I love you, too.” And that was the worst line he’s ever heard.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

KAVEH. foolish ones

“Oh, woe is me…” Loves me, loves me not, loves me… “Did you happen to see anything in the mailbox?”

His roommate stared. “Go check it yourself.”

Kaveh heavily sighed. He couldn’t; He physically could not bear to do it. It’s not that he was lazy to get up, no. The real issue was the genuine grief he would feel when he opened the mailbox, only to see nothing inside. No special gifts, no romantic letters, and absolutely no confessions of love signed with your name.

It was embarrassing, really. To feel this dramatic and obsessed with words of admiration from you—oh, especially when Alhaitham found out about this whole lovesick ordeal. But he could not help his mind from just imagining it: the reflection of himself in your eyes as you finally confess your feelings of passion and love for him (feelings that didn’t exist, feelings he merely imagined you having, all so pathetically).

But he’s so weird, and he’s so terrible. To imagine a fabled life with you when you probably did not think about him this same way. How foolish. Did you daydream about him like he daydreamed about you every night before he slept? Did you think about him like he thought about you every time he sees your favorite color in the passing? Did you wait at your mailbox like he waited for any letters from you? No. No, you didn’t.

And he’s cried, quite humiliatingly. He’s cried that the perfect life he could picture himself having with you at his side would never be a reality. He’s cried a downpour of tears, simply because he allowed himself to be so caught up in a delusion that was so sick of him to conjure up.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“So sorry Kaveh, I already have plans…”

Plans with someone else. No wonder you hadn’t written him any messages, or contacted him in a while. That… was not the scenes he had in his head. His imaginations, his hopes, his dreams—they did not have someone else in them. For someone he was so hopelessly in love with, he felt so much hurt. A foolish lesson to be learned by a foolish romantic.

In the end, he’d just be talking himself to sleep again. He’d just smile at the sight of you flourishing. Without him, your world will go on turning. A world full of reciprocated love and devotion, one that he would never know.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

RAIDEN EI. you belong with me

The Raiden Shogun was self-destructive. No more than a few people knew of such a fact, but she was certainly one of them.

Because if she cared for her own wellbeing, truly, then she would not fall for selfish desires. Nor, would she be here now, sitting next to you outside a sliding screen in her private gardens of Tenshukaku, sipping your favorite tea and hearing your sweet voice ramble about something so unpleasant to her ears. If she prioritized her own emotions, then maybe she’d be living in blissful ignorance right now instead of listening to your woes over a lover… A lover that was not her.

“And then, she teases me,” you complained, though it was clear you hated it. You didn’t like whining about your partner, which was a good thing—but it made Ei feel sick, because it meant you really loved that woman. “I know she does that all the time, and I just need to get used to it,” you continued, “but sometimes, it gets too much, and she still doesn’t stop.”

But I wouldn’t do that to you, the archon thinks to herself. And suddenly, the tea isn’t as appetizing anymore, because her own words felt drilled onto her tongue, forever forbidden to speak aloud.

“Miko… Has always been like that,” Ei quietly admits instead. She doesn’t want to insult your lover, for that same person was also her own friend. She wanted to be supportive, but it was impossible when she was so in love with you, that she spent every second of each passing day just wishing she was in Miko’s place instead.

“Yeah… But—still, I mean…” You sighed, coming to a loss for words to describe the pink haired shrine maiden. “Is it really so hard to ask just for her to understand how I’m feeling…?” you whined in what seemed like genuine distress. Your face sunk into your hands, and it took all of Ei’s willpower just to keep her respective distance from a romantically taken friend.

But I understand how you feel, Ei once again thinks. She feels so dirty of a friend for comparing herself like this. I understand you better than she will ever.

“Ei…” you muttered. She almost chokes from the way you say her name. “What should I do…?”

Be with me, instead. “Don’t cry over something, or someone, you cannot control. It’s possible your personalities are just not fit for each other, you know.”

“But I love her, Ei…”

Ouch.

She clears her throat, recovering from sharp breath of air she just inhaled. A part of her just broke in that moment, and it was so obvious, too—her expression quickly changed, her body became stiff, her balance suddenly shifted, and yet…

You noticed none of it. Your head was too clouded over love for another woman that was not her; So clouded, in fact, you did not notice the way Ei almost began to tremble. The misery you carried only crafted tenfold for the archon, eternally unbeknownst to you.

But you don’t belong to her, anyways. So why was she crying?

#childe x reader #ayato x reader #baizhu x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #raiden ei x reader #al haitham x reader #ei x reader #tartaglia x reader #ayato kamisato imagines #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato kamisato x reader #genshin imagines

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another-lost-mc · 1 year ago

Note

I really liked the lactation headcanons for the brothers and Solomon! I was wondering if your planning to make more for the other characters?

A/N: This series was a wild ride. It started as crack-treated-seriously and then I kind of liked it more than I thought I would. The comments and requests along the way motivated me to keep going. If you were one of the readers waiting for these characters to show up, I hope the final installment was worth the wait!

LUCIFER, SATAN, DIAVOLO & BARBATOS, SIMEON, KARASU

5k words | NSFW/MDNI | gn!Reader

Content/warnings: due to magical mishaps, reader has larger, lactating breasts that are vaguely described. Mostly hurt/comfort, smut and fluff. Lactation kink, breast/nipple play, breast massaging/fondling, threesome/poly relationship, fingering, cockwarming, oral sex, rough sex. Reader pronouns: you/your, they/them.

More in the Lactation Kink series: Mammon | Levi, Asmo, Beel, Belphie | Solomon

LUCIFER

Lucifer thinks it's so precious when you cross your arms and insist he turn around so you can strip out of your soiled pajamas. Your chest strains against the buttons of the Devilmoth silk pajama shirt he bought you, and it’s dotted with wet spots from your leaking nipples. Your frown deepens when he insists that he’s seen you naked plenty of times before, but he finally relents with a sigh and turns to face the wall so you can undress.

He’s still not sure how this unusual situation occurred, but he has a gut feeling that a certain white-haired sorcerer has something to do with it. He’ll have to hunt Solomon down and string him up later as penance, but for right now, his only priority is making sure you’re comfortable and cared for.

The first thing he thought might help your stress and discomfort was sitting in a warm bath. He used his personal shower gel to add a bit of fragrance and foam to the water. The subtle notes of coffee and amber mix diffuse into the steamy air. He was afraid that Asmo’s floral bubble bath might be too overpowering.

(He secretly prefers that you use scented products that will remind you of him anyway.)

Once he hears the soft sloshing of bath water, he finally turns around. There’s a small stool perched in the corner of the room, and he drags it over so he can sit behind you. You look at him over your shoulder and comment that maybe it's best he leaves—you're afraid his clothes might get wet. He offers you a small smile but shakes his head and reminds you to stop being silly.

He assumes that your deflection is your attempt to draw his attention away from you and your body's recent changes. Your breasts are larger now, and he's hesitant to admit out loud that it’s a bit strange. It’s not the same body he’s mapped with his hands and worshipped with his tongue. But what he realized when he found you like this earlier, and what he hopes you'll always believe, is that it doesn’t matter what you look like. Nothing could ever change how he feels for you. You’ll always be stunning in his eyes, the single person who captivates him effortlessly with a smile, a touch, a kiss—all the things you offer freely that prove how much you love him.

He doesn't know how to change your body back, but what he can do is help you feel better instead. He starts by massaging your shoulders gently, and he feels the tension start to melt away under his fingers. Your arms float weightlessly in the water at your sides, and you’re no longer focused on shielding your chest from his view. He uses the opportunity to rake his greedy, curious eyes along your body. Glimpses of wet, naked skin peek through the fluffy layer of bubbles; the slick tops of your breasts rest just above the water’s surface.

He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows and scoots his seat a little closer. He kisses the ticklish spot below your ear while his hands curl over your shoulders and smooth down your chest. He cups the heavy weight of your tits in his palms, and his cock twitches when you sigh softly at his touch. You tip your head back against the edge of the porcelain tub so he has better access to the soft column of your throat. He kisses along your jaw and down your neck as his fingers pinch greedily at your swollen nipples. You push your chest against his hands encouragingly, a silent plea to keep going. He rolls the hardened buds between his fingers and smirks into the crook of your neck when you breathe out a quiet moan. He does it again and again, alternating pinching your nipples gently and massaging your breasts until you’re both desperate for more.

The bubbles slowly start to dissipate and he can see more of your naked body below the water’s surface. His cock aches when you start squirming in the water and clenching your thighs together; you're desperate for some sort of friction to relieve the heat building inside you. He’s tempted to tear off his clothes and lower himself into the bath with you, but your nipples have started leaking again. The creamy discharge expels into the water and lingers on the surface like a film. The renewed scent of warm milk in the air envelops him like a fog. He coaxes you to sit up straight, and your tits hang heavily from your chest, no longer buoyant in the bath water. He flicks his thumb across your nipple and gathers some of the pearly-white milk before sucking it into his mouth with a hum.

You shift in the tub to face him properly, and his eyes drink in the delectable sight of your warm cheeks, your lust-darkened eyes and your soft, pouty lips. Your eyes flick down when you notice the obvious bulge in his pants. You slowly lick your lips and all he can think of now is tracing your mouth with the tip of his cock. He thinks about thrusting himself gently into your mouth and teasing the back of your throat while you swallow around him. He’ll have to pull away before he comes because he wants to paint your skin with his release. The thought of his cum mixing with the drops of milk clinging to your tits makes his cock ache and throb against his zipper.

Fantasies can only satisfy him for so long, and he’s run out of patience for daydreams. He stands up and starts unbuttoning his shirt; he’s tempted to tear the damn thing open because the desire to have your mouth around his cock tests the limits of his self-control.

“The bath water is getting cool, my love,” he murmurs thickly. (It's not, but you don't correct him because you already know what he wants.) He keeps his hungry gaze locked with your own as he starts unbuckling his belt. “Rinsing off in a warm shower might be best for now—but this time, I think I’ll join you.”

SATAN

Satan is touched that you would ask him for help with your unfortunate little problem. Problems. He skimmed through his collection of human world medical texts before coming to your room but he’s not prepared for the reality when he walks through your door: the lactonic scent in the air, your damp night shirt that sticks to your swollen chest and hardened nipples, the apprehension in your eyes because you’re afraid he’ll tease you.

Your expression is hesitant because of your self-consciousness, but right now he wants nothing more than to comfort you, to help you so that this strange mishap passes as painlessly as possible. He sent word to Lucifer already and got permission for both of you to stay home: you can relax easier without the others loitering nearby, and he can take care of you in peace and quiet.

He sits at your desk and reads from a medical book in his lap. He explains that massaging might help with the excess fluid and the swelling that's causing you some discomfort. His cheeks burn flaming-hot because he's so tempted to offer to do it for you, but he doesn’t want to make you feel even more awkward or exposed.

He clears his throat and looks down at his book to give you some semblance of privacy. He pretends to read, but he steals glimpses of you from the corner of his eye instead. You peel away the sticky nightshirt and toss it aside, and his breath hitches when you cup your heavy tits in your hands. You hold them gently, looking down at them curiously like you haven’t really looked at them before. You squeeze them and utter a little gasp that makes his cock twitch inside his pants. You do it again, and again, and you try pinching one of your nipples too. There’s a fresh wave of milky scent in the air, and he can hear the quiet drip—drip—drips as the creamy fluid falls onto your lap.

His fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to squeeze your soft breasts himself. He desperately wants to hear more of your whiny little sounds in his ear as he plays with your tits, but he reminds himself that this isn't about him, this is about you.

(He doesn’t realize you’ve been watching him, too. He thinks he’s fooling you with the upside-down book in his lap that he’s clearly not reading, or the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears are bright-red from embarrassment or arousal—probably both—and the loudest sound in your room is his jerky, panted breaths.)

He stares blankly at nothing while he imagines what it might be like to watch your tits jiggle from the force of his thrusts as he fucks you. He thinks about squeezing them in his hands and watching the milky fluids seep between his fingertips. His mind races and he thinks about jerking off as he kneels over your stomach, spilling his release across your skin and watching his cum drip between the valley of your breasts into the little pools of your milk. He could gather it up on his fingers and feed it to you, if you’re curious what both of you taste like mixed together…?

He looks over in a panic when he realizes you’re trying to get his attention. From the mischievous smile on your face, apparently it wasn’t the first time you called his name. His eyes linger on your chest before he snaps his gaze up to yours, but you look even more devious now. His cock throbs between his legs when you lay back against your pillows, slowly and deliberately, and you start playing with your tits again.

You ask him in the sweetest, most innocent tone if he’d like to help, and he’s out of the chair in an instant. The book in his lap falls carelessly to the floor, revealing the hard outline of his cock in his jeans and the little wet spot forming near the tip. He climbs onto the bed and settles himself over your thighs. He leans forward and covers your hands with his, squeezing your tits gently and muffling your soft moan when he captures your lips in a desperate kiss.

DIAVOLO & BARBATOS

Your brunch date with Diavolo and Barbatos takes an unexpected turn when you show up with swollen breasts and leaking nipples. You threw on an oversized sweater to try and hide your unexpected condition so you wouldn’t have to cancel on them.

They escort you inside the castle to Diavolo’s private chambers where the breakfast table has been set on his private balcony, but both demons can sense right away that something’s not quite right. Diavolo will know if you lie, and you’re not a good liar at the best of times, so you tell them the truth. You shuffle your feet nervously and brace yourself for their reactions—surprise, worry, disgust?

Above all else, they’re concerned about your condition and whether you’re in any pain. You reassure them it’s mostly embarrassment and they seem relieved to hear it. The three of you loiter awkwardly in Diavolo's room and you realize that they're acting a little strange after you confess your secret to them. They lean in close and sniff curiously at your skin. Barbatos mutters something about not wanting you to get cold and he tugs at the hem of the damp sweater. Once the heavy shirt is removed, you only have a soaking-wet undershirt to cover your chest. The thin, flimsy material is nearly see-through and it clings to your breasts and your hardening nipples in the cool air. Two pairs of eyes roam your chest eagerly, and Diavolo pulls you into his arms—he shrugs off your feeble concerns about his clothes getting dirty too.

(While the young prince distracts you, Barbatos turns away and brings the discarded sweater to his nose. He breathes in your natural scent laced with milk and licks experimentally against the wet cotton. It has a surprisingly warm, semi-sweet taste. He draws a bit more of the fabric between his lips and sucks lightly, but the increasingly persistent throbbing between his legs snaps him out of his daze.)

Barbatos sets everything aside to be washed and by the time he returns to your side, Diavolo reaches for the hem of your undershirt next. The heat in their eyes is unmistakable and you suddenly realize what they mean when they offer to help you. Their dark eyes promise all sorts of sin to distract you from your unfortunate predicament, but like always, they wait patiently for your permission. As soon as you've nodded your consent, Diavolo takes off your undershirt while Barbatos reaches for your waistband. Gentle hands remove the last of your clothing, and they lead you to the bed.

They press against you, Diavolo in front of you and Barbatos at your back, and you're engulfed by the heat of their bodies. They take turns peppering your lips and your bare skin in a flurry of hot, sloppy kisses. Greedy hands roam across your body as they hastily rid themselves of their own clothing.

Barbatos manages to take his clothes off first, and his naked body is hot and firm against your back. He wraps an arm around your waist and buries his nose against your neck. He tilts your head towards his and kisses you while his slick tail strokes between your legs and teases at your entrance. He holds you steady in his arms despite the tremor in your legs as the precise pace of his tail flicking in and out of you teases you with pleasure. Your skin grows slippery from his tail’s secretion, and once he's satisfied he won't hurt you, he replaces his tail with his fingers next. Two fingers slip inside easily and he scissors them wide to stretch you open for his cock. His name falls from your lips in jerky little whimpers and groans, and you grind your ass against his cock when you're ready for more.

You’re so perfectly distracted that you nearly forgot about Diavolo. He watches silently with lustful eyes as Barbatos’ hand works between your thighs. He undresses himself slowly while he enjoys the sight of his butler’s dexterous fingers thrusting in and out of your greedy hole. He meets Barbatos' questioning look over your shoulder; when he nods, Barbatos sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you down into his lap.

Your body trembles with anticipation as Barbatos guides his cock inside you, and you groan his name when he bottoms out. He murmurs praise into your ear about how you take him so well and you’re so warm and soft for him. He holds your hips still when you try to squirm in his lap. He denies you the friction you crave, but he promises they'll both reward you if you listen and behave.

He wraps one arm around your tummy to keep you pressed against him while the other hand starts fondling one of your tits. His cock twitches inside you every time you moan or shudder, but he still won't let you move. His fingers play with your nipple, tracing the sensitive nub before surprising you with a sharp pinch between his finger and thumb. Milk drips onto your lap and rolls lazily down the inside of your thighs. Your face burns with embarrassment and desire, but his lips brush the shell of your ear. You're doing so well, he promises with a kiss. What a delightful treat you are, dearest.

Diavolo watches your sweet torment as he lazily fists his cock. The tendrils of milk and sweat stain your skin and he longs to trace them both with his tongue. These little games benefit from a bit of a tease, and he lets desire build within him like an inferno.

When he can't possibly wait anymore to touch you, he finally kneels between your legs. His large hands push your thighs apart so he can pepper your ticklish thighs with soft kisses. Your breasts bounce lightly each time his feather-light lips brush over a sensitive patch of skin. Barbatos continues pinching your nipples and his young master waits patiently for it to roll down your thighs. He laps up your milk greedily between nips of teeth. Your musky arousal and your sweet milk on his tongue makes him ravenous for you.

Diavolo buries his head between your legs and sucks at your arousal earnestly, and Barbatos finally starts to move. He grinds his hips lazily against yours so his cock fills you deeply with each little thrust of his hips. He fondles both of your tits with both his hands as Diavolo’s hands curl around your hips. Each roll of your hips draws Barbatos deeper inside you while Diavolo ravishes you with his tongue, desperate for every drop of milk and cum your body can give him.

SIMEON

Simeon is startled from his book when an angry knock pounds on the front door of Purgatory Hall. He’s not sure what Solomon did to you, but judging by the frustrated purse of your lips and the angry glint in your eyes, it must be serious. The sorcerer is nowhere to be found, but Simeon leads you to his room—he hopes you’ll be more comfortable and willing to talk to him about what’s bothering you in private.

He’s shocked by the sight of your large chest when you take off your jacket with a frustrated grumble. There are some dried stains around your hardening nipples and you point at yourself derisively. You complain about the mess you woke up to and how most of your tops don’t even fit anymore. You compare yourself to a leaky faucet and he stops your self-deprecating rant with a gentle hand on your shoulder. He’s not sure how he can help but he desperately wants to. Your eyes look so sad and it’s gut-wrenching to see you like this.

You look away from him in embarrassment, but he reassures you that he wants to help. He strokes your cheek gently with the back of his fingers and promises he’ll do whatever you ask of him. His thumb wipes away a stray tear that slips from the corner of your eye, and you melt into his chest when he pulls you into a gentle hug.

“I could use a distraction,” you murmur quietly into his shirt with a sniffle.

A distraction?

If it’s a distraction you need, then that's what he'll do for you.

He helps you take off your clothes first. Your top is already a lost cause, and there’s small drip stains on your pants now too. He drops them into a messy pile on the floor. He quickly takes off his own shirt and pants next while you scoot back on his bed until you’re resting comfortably against the pillows.

It’s not often he gets to enjoy you like this: naked and trembling with anticipation against his sheets, gazing at him with dark eyes blown-black with lust. He drinks in the sight of your chest and swallows thickly when your breasts bounce slightly when the mattress dips from his weight.

He runs his hands slowly up your legs and pushes them apart gently. He lays between your thighs and press sweet, soft kisses against your warm skin. He teases you with little nips of teeth and leaves behind little marks that you can remember him by tomorrow. He glances at you curiously when one of your hands brushes away the curtain of hair over his eyes. He stares hungrily at the tantalizing sight of your hand cupping one of your swollen tits; you pinch your nipple playfully when you’re sure he’s watching.

You little tease.

He licks a thick stripe up the inside of your thigh before he buries his face against your sex. Your surprised yelp trails off into a moan, and he hisses when your free hand tangles roughly in his hair. You roll your hips against his face while the fingers clenched in his hair keep his mouth exactly where you want him.

He’s messy when he goes down on you, teasing you with kitten licks between greedy sucks between his lips. Your skin grows slick with your own musky arousal and his spit. When he hums at your taste, you can almost feel it vibrating deep in your bones. Your body quakes delightfully as he coaxes you towards your release, and your shaky voice pleads for more.

He regrets not bringing a bottle of lube with him earlier; you're nearly begging for him to fuck you. He doesn’t want to get up even for a moment, so he settles for the next best thing: he traces your entrance with his tongue instead. One hand holds your hip down on the bed while the other snakes up your body and closes over your heavy tit. He squeezes the soft flesh as he slips his tongue inside you; his fingers dig into your hip when your body clenches around him. You rock your hips to encourage him to give you more, to touch you deeper inside, and he happily obliges.

He might not be fucking you with his cock, but it still doesn’t take long for you to fall apart from his ministrations. His name is a desperate chant that falls from your lips, punctuated by curses and groans and breathy whimpers. Your thighs tremble from your impending release, and his fingers end up covered with milk as he continues playing with your breasts. He ruts against the mattress to provide his cock some relief as you finally fall to pieces against his mouth. He coaxes the last remnants of pleasure from you, lapping greedily at your cum and flicking his tongue against your hole until you’re too sensitive and nearly begging for him to stop.

When you’re satisfied and exhausted, he slides up the bed and braces himself over you. Your chest heaves from exertion and your breasts are soft against his when he lowers his chest to yours. His cock hangs heavy between you and it smears precum where it rests on your belly. He lowers his head and kisses across your chest as he starts grinding his cock against you. Your hands card through his hair as you hold him against your chest. He latches onto one of your nipples and moans as a fresh burst of creamy fluid spills across his tongue.

KARASU

Karasu will gladly do anything you ask, or give you anything you want if it’s in his power to give.

He comes to the House of Lamentation as soon as you call, your voice thick with tears, and he takes a personal day off work to see you. He tries to keep the shock and confusion (and interest) from his expression when he arrives and discovers your temporary ailment. He hugs you and kisses your cheeks and leads you to your ensuite bathroom where he runs a warm shower for you. He changes your damp, milk-stained sheets while you wash. He has a clean, dry set of pajamas waiting for you when you step out in your bathrobe.

He does all these things, and he offers to do anything else you need, because he loves you no matter what. It surprises him when you ask him to fuck you, and for the first time since he arrived that morning, he hesitates. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, because he does. He’s filled to the brim with desire for you, a never ending itch just below the surface of his skin that only finds relief when he’s inside you.

Karasu expected that you might like a relaxing day in front of the TV. He could help you stay clean and dry while your…larger chest…continues leaking. He thought about ordering your favourite takeout for lunch, and maybe going for a walk in the garden if you’re up to it later.

The thought of spending the day in bed with you never crossed his mind. The idea is awfully tempting, but above all else, he’s concerned about hurting you somehow. It's not a risk he's willing to take, but you reassure him it'll be fine as you unfasten your robe and let it drop carelessly at your feet. He stares at your naked body and realizes that he’s powerless to deny you; if you want him so badly, you can have him.

One thing you can't lie about is your chest; your breasts are heavy and swollen, and he knows they can’t be comfortable. You’re surprisingly shy about letting him touch them, so he doesn’t ask. However, you seem to have a clever idea when you stack your pillows and cover them with a towel. You kneel on the bed and lay with your chest resting comfortably on the pillows to support your breasts while the towel catches any fluid that leaks out. The extra cushioning helps relieve some of the strain on your shoulders.

Karasu can’t deny that you make an extremely desirable sight like this: your back curves beautifully in this position, and your ass is raised high in the air when you lean forward. He strips quickly and the mattress dips slightly under him when he kneels onto the bed. He shuffles into position behind you and runs his hands up and down your lower back before smoothing over the generous swell of your hips and ass.

He prefers to see your face when he fucks you, but you wiggle your hips impatiently and he admits that this position is tantalizing in its own way. If you’d rather feel pleasure than discomfort, why would he deny you when your body begs him so beautifully?

He slicks his fingers with lube and rubs them together for a moment to warm them. You gasp softly when his hand explores between your legs and brushes teasingly against your entrance. He rubs his fingers across the sensitive opening, and each little noise you make shoots straight through him to his cock; he’s already hard and dripping for you.

He ignores the ache of his own desire as he slips one finger inside you. Your body is so inviting, so soft and pliable under his touch. You might’ve begged for him before, but he thinks he might be even more desperate than you are now. He adds another finger, and a third quickly after that. He stretches you wide and savors the whimpered pleas falling endlessly from your lips when you beg him to fuck you already.

He positions himself behind you and rubs his cock between your thighs so the messy slick and lube coats his shaft. He holds you steady with one hand curled around your hip while the other guides his cock tip to your entrance. He slips inside with a groan and pushes in until he’s fully sheathed inside you with one deep stroke.

Sweat beads along his brow and rolls down his temples. He gives you a moment to adjust as your greedy little hole wraps snuggly around his cock. There’s nothing sweeter than the hot, tight embrace of your body clenching desperately around him. When you push back slightly with your hips to grind against him, he finally starts to move. He’s slow and steady so the force of his thrusts don’t put too much weight on your chest.

He pauses when you whimper quietly, but before he can ask what’s wrong, he sniffs the milky scent of your discharge in the air.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” you plead breathlessly, hands fisting the sheets.

He snaps his hips harder than before—there’s something about the whiny tremor in your voice that makes lust surge through his veins. “Making a mess already, dear one?”

You moan his name and roll your hips, trying so desperately to fuck yourself on his cock. He rarely talks dirty like this, and you like it. You nod eagerly with a quiet, uh huh. You roll your hips and urge him to move harder, and deeper and faster, and he obeys. He meets your rhythm, panting heavily as he pounds into you. A stream of curses and moans and grunts fall from his lips while your own pleased noises mix with his own.

The bed frame groans and creaks beneath you, but he can still hear the obscene squelch of his cock dragging against your walls as he thrusts inside you. His own release builds inside him as his pace becomes rougher and faster; he won’t last very long but he'll be damned if he comes before you do. He leans against your back and reaches between your legs so he can stroke you with his wet, sticky fingers. “Come for me, you beautiful thing, that’s it—I want to feel you come on my cock, you‘re so perfect for me, just a little bit more—”

Your orgasm crashes over you as he coos filthy praise against your ear. He strokes you through it until your sinful vice tightens around his cock and he comes too. He pumps into you lazily as thick ropes of cum make his thrusts wet and sloppy. His hips finally stutter to a halt when he’s too sensitive to keep going. His softening cock slips from your body and he collapses beside you with a drawn-out groan.

You rest flat on your tummy while you catch your breath, but there’s a pleased smile curling your lips when you turn your head to look at him. “That helped,” you admit cheekily, and you both break into bashful laughter. “I like it when you’re a little rough,” you admit as you reach for his hand.

He laces his fingers with yours and nuzzles against your shoulder. “Let me order something for us to eat,” he suggests. “After that, maybe we can experiment with other ways to help you feel better.”

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ladykailitha · 4 days ago

Text

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 14

Hey guys! Welcome back! So this chapter is getting a little heavy on the angsty side, so just a heads up.

Things have been going great for all the stories especially the Christmas one.

This will be the story that keeps its usual schedule next week. Every other posting day will be finishing up the Olympic Swimmer one. So be on the look out for that.

Also super long chapter!

Steve tries out some hobbies, Joyce pushes, and Steve gets depressed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Steve would like to say he got right on the job search the next day, but he really didn’t. He woke up refreshed and feeling good about himself. After a run on the treadmill and big breakfast he had already talked himself out needing to.

But instead he decided that he wanted to learn new hobbies. He had the money and pretty much unlimited time so why not?

The first thing he tried felting. Yeah, he had a lot of money, but he wanted to start with something cheap in case he got bored with it.

Taking the kit out of the box, he already ran into a problem. The leather finger gloves were much too small. Like he didn’t have fat fingers or anything but they were much too tight to fit on even his pinkie fingers he turned them inside out to see if he could make them bigger somehow.

He only succeeded in ruining the finger gloves. He tried rubber thimbles as replacements but still the sharp tool would pierce even the tough rubber.

The kit sat abandoned in a corner of his hotel room until one of the porters saw it and asked if he could have it. His sister did the felting all the time and she was having trouble finding colors she liked.

So Steve let him have it. Three days later the porter came back with a bright yellow canary and a female robin. He proudly displayed them on his nightstand next to the phone and alarm clock.

Robin loved them, but refused to take the robin. She said they shouldn’t be separated at any price.

Steve loved her a little bit more when she said that.

The next thing he tried was painting.

That lasted all of six hours before they got handed off to Will. It was a beautiful oil, acrylic, and water color set, with all the paint brushes and pallet and metal wood-handled pallet knives.

It lasted that long was because that was the time it took for Steve to set everything up, including an old sheet Rosa let him have, start painting and promptly knock everything over. The water, the paints, the easel. Everything. He broke the easel, knocked a hole in the canvas, and smeared paint all over the apron he had bought just for the occasion.

Will was happy to receive the paints, but in turn he gave Steve a simple notepad and pencil and taught him how to draw.

Steve liked that.

It was just for doodling and making silly pictures so it didn’t make him feel like a failure. He went to the bookstore and bought a bunch of books on how to draw certain things. Animals, the human figure. He even found this great reference book on clothes sorted based on the English monarch who was in power at the time the were wore.

Which was all well and good, but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

One day while he was over at Will’s talking art and whether or not kneaded erasers were worth the pain they caused if you dropped, Ellie introduced him to a new hobby. Will was against the things, Steve was for.

Jonathan huffed, “That’s probably a class issue as Steve here can afford to replace them and Will can’t.”

Steve and Will stared at each other in complete shock, but had to admit that Jonathan was probably right.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve huffed, “that’s fair. I guess I really didn’t think about it because it’s not my money I’m spending.”

“Have you tried looking for a job?” Joyce asked. She didn’t like that someone was paying to keep Steve safe. As nice as it was, in her experience the well tended to dry up when you least expected it to.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Byers.” Which he had. Yes, he had been focused on trying to learn things that would keep his mind from atrophying, he had also been looking. “If they seen me coming they take down the sign or if they don’t get to it in time, they say it’s an old sign and that they forgot to take it down.”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. The rumor around town is that because Mr. Harrington was the landlord for a lot of the properties that the businesses were on, he had threatened to raise their rent if they gave Steve a job.

Something that all the adults promised not to tell Steve so that he wouldn’t get so discouraged as to not try at all.

But surely Clint Harrington didn’t own every business in Hawkins and she told Steve so.

“No,” Steve huffed. “But he’s friends with ones that he doesn’t. I’m going to try the mall next. Most of the them are franchises and have their main bosses outside of Hawkins.”

She let out a little sigh of relief. It showed that Steve was trying and actively thinking of these types of pitfalls.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “What have you got there, Ellie?” he asked trying to shift the focus off of him for a moment.

Joyce was watching Ellie while Hopper was at work.

The young girl held up long satin strings of embroidery thread. She had three shades of pink, a white, and a red. She tied the ends to a safety pin that was pinned her leg.

“I’m making friendship bracelets for me and Max,” Ellie said proudly. “The pink is for me, and then I have these colors for her!” She held up blues and purples.

“That’s way cool!” Steve said scooting over to sit next to her.

Jonathan and Will shared a smile. Steve was lost to the shiny allure of friendship bracelets.

“I could teach you if you like,” she said with a smile. “I also have boondoggle!” She held up shiny plastic strips. “I make key chains and other things that need to last a lot longer than the thread.”

Steve really lit up, but then frowned when he saw out intricate it all was. “I’ll never be do anything that fancy.”

Ellie sat closer and pulled out a little paper that she had in her caboodle. “I couldn’t at first either, so I went to the library and took out a book on all the different ways you could plait and how to do boondoggle. Then I copied a couple of the pages I wanted to try.”

She handed it to him and pointed to the easiest. “That’s the one I started with and it will probably take a little bit to get the spacing right.”

Steve tilted his head. “Is this like braiding hair?”

“Yes!” Ellie said excitedly. “That’s right. I forgot you braid Max’s hair all the time. So then it will be easy for you.”

Soon they were off in their own little world.

Joyce watched with her arms crossed and a concerned expression. Jonathan spotted her and shook his head. He stood up and went to stand next to her.

“You’ve got to let it go, Mom,” he said gently. “You aren’t his mom and even if you were, he’s still an adult. As near as anyone of can tell, whoever is footing this bill isn’t in it to exploit Steve, just making sure he’s taken care of.”

Joyce breathed out through her nose as she tried not to snap at her son. She didn’t know that as a fact and Hopper’s reassurances weren’t enough. She hated having to take his word that whoever this was wouldn’t harm Steve. And that galled.

“It’s all the expensive gifts,” she tried to explain. “The car, the unlimited credit card, cash drops weekly, the gold necklace, the hotel. It’s just not right, it’s not decent.”

Jonathan shook his head. “What about all the non-expensive gifts? Things this benefactor thought Steve would like or get a kick out of? Like that little canary with top hat that he keeps on his dashboard? Or all the music tapes they send, thinking Steve might want to try something different. Hell, according to Steve until they left the country, they talked once or twice a day. That doesn’t sound like someone out to hurt him.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. Because Jonathan was right, that didn’t sound like someone trying to use Steve. “I know.”

Jonathan patted on her shoulder and then went into his room, probably to call Nancy. Another person like his mom who worried Steve was being taken advantage of. But even if he was, that was a lesson he was going to have to learn the hard way.

On his own.

Will had long since left to go hang out with Mike while Ellie and Steve made friendship bracelets. He made four. A black, red, and dark grey one for Eddie, a red, a brown, and a light grey one for Robin and two yellow, white, and black ones. So he could one each to Eddie and Robin.

“Those are really pretty, Steve,” Ellie congratulated him. “Those are some interesting color choices.” Spoken as though she was silently judging, but too polite to say so.

He blushed and held up the first one. “This is for my special friend, they are his favorite colors.” Then he held up the second. “And this is for Robin. The colors remind me of a female robin and the last two represent who I am now.”

Ellie blinked for a moment as she took in the information. “I can see that now. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“I get my thread at Melvand’s,” she said serenely, “if you wanted to continue to make more, that’s where you would go to get your own.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Ellie.”

He didn’t stay much longer than that, now that both of the other boys were gone, Joyce was keeping too close an eye on him with Ellie. He knew it wasn’t the gay thing as she didn’t mind Will being around her. And it wasn’t being a barely legal adult considering she would gladly leave Jonathan to look over her.

Nope.

It was entirely because she didn’t know who Steve’s mysterious benefactor was. And the thought of this unknown, probably male, person might hear about Ellie later? Yeah, that’s where she drew her invisible line.

Which was bullshit, like with Robin’s mom, Eddie wasn’t going to prey on little girls. He was freaking out about Steve might be underage when they met in the club. But it wasn’t like he could tell Joyce that. She might revoke his time with Will and Ellie if she learned he had been underaged drinking that night. The night Eddie saved him.

Steve went up to his hotel room and flopped face first into his bed. He was tired. Tired of all the questions about finding a job and getting out from under Eddie’s thumb. Like Eddie was financially abusing him or whatever.

He just wanted to bring people to his hotel room and show them all the little things Eddie sent him just because he walked into a gas station and saw something cute he thought he would like. The keychain from Kansas City with his name on it. The bright yellow shirt that said “I don’t take no shit” and had the Iowan state bird of the American goldfinch. That one came with a little note explaining that it was a canary, but the black on the wings reminded Eddie of the deliciously tight black leather pants.

Steve blushed for hours after that one.

He wiggled onto the bed and crawled under the covers without having taken off any of his clothes. Maybe he could hibernate until Eddie got back in America.

Steve managed to bury himself under the covers before the porter with the felting sister ripped the blanket off from over his head.

He stared blearily up at the porter. “Martin?” He struggled to sit up, but flopped back down on the pillow in distress. “Just leave me alone.”

“It’s Marty actually,” the porter huffed. “The only people that call me Martin are my boss and my mom. You’re not either.”

“Marty, I just want to go back to sleep.”

Marty pulled the rest of the blankets and yanked Steve off the bed. He went with a startled yelp. He leapt to his feet to fight him, but he saw that Bob and Rosa were standing by his bed with looks of concern on their faces.

“I have the shower running,” Bob said, “you will get in there and at least clean off the sweat you reek of. Then Rosa will change the sheets. Marty will bring up some food while you are showering, then the three of us are staging an intervention, because this isn’t like you!”

Steve opened his mouth to refute that statement, probably something about how no one called the whole time he as sulking.

Bob pulled out a stack of messages. “I have thirteen messages, and that’s only because the answering machine is full.”

Steve looked behind him and sure enough the machine was blinking complete with a full tape.

“Oh.”

He meekly went and did as he was told. He was only going to do a perfunctory wipe down because they were waiting for him, but once he got under the water it felt so good that he began to thoroughly scrub himself down. Normally going without a shower for a couple of days really didn’t do much, but because he had barely moved to pee, he was covered in thin layer of sweat.

He washed his hair and got out of the shower. He dried himself off and put on the long robe Eddie had gotten him. He opened the door and was instantly hit with enticing aroma of chicken noodle soup. He moved out of the bathroom to the main room, lured by the scent of real food.

The sofa was full of the hotel employees so he grabbed his bowl of soup and spoon and sat down on the armchair curled up as small as he could make himself.

“You frightened us, mi corazón,” Rosa huffed. “You weren’t answering your phone, you weren’t ordering food. The only way we could tell you moved at all is that occasionally the cup in the bathroom would be wet or you would be on the other side of the bed.”

Bob nodded. “We were told to look after you, money was no object. That’s what we were told, but you turned out to be kind and generous and frankly better than ninety percent of the patrons here. You treat us like we’re human, so it became our pleasure to serve you. So when you weren’t opening your door to anyone or answering your calls, we knew something was wrong.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered into his bowl. “I just got so tired of everyone trying to find out who is bankrolling my life style and telling me to get a job that I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“It’s none of their business,” Rosa huffed. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have this life. I know your papa wants to hurt and all this for you protection, but it seems to me your friends just see the money you...” she snapped her fingers. “What’s the word?”

“I’d use ‘splash around’,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Ehhh,” she knew it wasn’t the word she was looking for but it would have to do. “They see the good. Not the bad. They see new car, but they weren’t there to see you give up your old car. They see the fancy hobbies, but they don’t see your big room and no one to fill it with.”

“She’s right,” Marty said. “I don’t think even the girl that comes with your gifts from Eddie Munson quite understands the crippling loneliness and isolation you have to be feeling right now.”

Steve sniffled into his soup. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know how to impress upon them how dangerous this all is for me. Like the only ones that remotely understand are the Hendersons and that’s because my dad showed up on their doorstep. But even then I don’t think Dustin quite grasps the enormity of it all, but then he’s thirteen so...”

“The only reason your father hasn’t penetrated hotel security,” Bob said with a grimace, “is that the owner, Dr. Sam Owens hates business men like your father. Otherwise, his hold over this town would have extended to here, no doubt about that.”

“So this is what’s going to happen,” Marty said, “if you need to sneak out and just go for a drive to get out of your head, call Bob and he’ll arrange it. If you need someone to talk to ring up Rose or myself. We’re here for you. We understand that Mr. Munson is out of the country right now and it makes it harder, but we’ve got you, okay?”

Steve nodded and said weakly, “Okay!”

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #age difference #ten years between steve and eddie

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tinkertea · 1 year ago

Text

MINORS DNI

FEEL GOOD

i've developed a fully fledged kink for men who wear masks, send help

synopsis: you make your boyfriend feel good after gym. pairing: könig x fem!reader warning: heavy petting; swearing category: smut word count: 814

He was sitting comfortably on the couch, his muscular legs spread wide enough so you could sit between them, his arms behind his head. It was ridiculous how good he looked, half-lidded eyes locked at you, watching your every move. His dark blonde hair was messy but you liked it, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly as if suppressing a smirk at the way you were admiring him. No longer was your undivided attention making him nervous, no longer was he questioning whether you found his scars repelling. He knew you barely noticed them, rather focusing on the freckles, on his eyes, on him.

“You look good”, his smooth voice broke the silence. You knew he was right and König knew how lucky he was to have you sitting obediently in front of him, breasts almost spilling out of the black lace bra you had put on just for him. Your fingers were leisurely drawing patterns on his legs as your eyes met his.

“D’you wanna touch me?”

You nodded, licking your lips at the thought of having your boyfriend at your mercy. He slightly tilted his head at you. “Go on then, Schöne. Make me feel good.”

You didn’t waste time and started to get him out of his training shorts that he had still been wearing. Your mouth watered at his muscular thighs – for some reason you had always found them particularly attractive, whether it was the way they flexed when he was fucking you in a hard but steady rythm or the way they felt when your barely clothed cunt was rutting against them.

He was wearing grey boxers, a dark wet patch showed off just the effect you had on him. How could he ever deny how blessed he was by having such a gorgeous thing all for himself? Of course he got turned on by the way you greeted him impatiently at the door after he’d finally returned from the gym, your body clad in the black lace, your voice sweet like honey when you’d asked him “Do you like it, König? Bought it just for you” as you gently led him to the couch.

It was a silly question, really. You could tell by the outline of his growing member, by the way his pupils dilated, how his tongue darted out to wet his pink lips - he loved it.

The groan he let out as you put your mouth on him - only separated by the fabric of his underwear - had you squeeze your thighs together but you were determined. He could feel your hot breath, your lips trying to suck through the fabric. It wasn’t enough, he needed more, more, more. There could never be enough of you.

König felt your lips turn into a smile, you were so cruel, enjoying his demise, his exterior cracking beneath your touch just like this. He had to press his eyes shut as need became a lump in his throat. “Fuck, scheiße, bi- please,” his voice jumped an octave higher.

It was tough to suppress a moan when his cock sprung free, you longed to feel the weight of him on your tongue, to taste him. It was addicting – how he melted beneath your touch, how his face was scrunched up when you hadn’t even done anything yet to warrant such a response. You were addicted to the power he allowed you to have in these rare moments, you were addicted to how he laid his vulnerability bare in front of you.

“I’ll make you feel good, my king, I promise,” you almost purred before licking from base to the top, following the prominent vein on the underside, getting him nice and slick, before licking the pre-cum off the beautiful pink tip. His breath hitched when you licked his slit, König’s hand roaming through your hair like it had a mind of its own before you gently took in your own and placed it on his knee.

“Be good, my king,” you mumbled against his soft skin, taking as much as you could into your mouth. While your one hand held his fingers tight as you struggled with his length, your other toyed with his balls the way you knew he liked it. The moan that escaped him was enough to confirm this knowledge. “Fuck, fühlt sich das gut an,” he mumbled beneath his breath, his emerald eyes trained on you again.

He couldn’t miss out on the magic unfolding in front of him. Though his arousal clouded his mind, he couldn’t help but notice how you squeezed your thighs, how your eyes were dark with lust as you enjoyed the taste of him. He was sure that by now you were seeping through the thin lace thong onto the hardwood floor. He didn’t mind one bit, he’d make you lick it clean later – before he’d feast on you himself.

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄: Shower Sex w/ CDC!Daryl Dixon

a/n: omg y'all's tags on your reblogs of my posts make me giggle. there's an equal amount of thirst to y'all just being plain old funny! i love all my silly little gooses!! thank you for the support!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

At first the CDC just felt like a fantasy, a great idea, but unreachable. But there was something about the way in which Rick spoke about it that sparked the last bit of hope that had been residing in your chest.

The fall had taken everything from you: you parents, siblings, relatives, a job that you had worked your ass off to get; but the worst part is, it put your relationship with Daryl on hold. You knew it was only because he was afraid of losing you, but it was like you missed him even though he was right there. So, when an opportunity to be a couple again arose, you took it.

"Why haven't ya showered yet?" He asked while walking in your shared quarters — which had been Daryl's insistence when you tried to claim one for yourself.

You looked up from the book you were reading on the miniature sofa in the room. "I figured we could shower together. I tried to find you while everyone else was, but I didn't know where you were." He only grunted, chewing on a hangnail nervously.

"Ya wanna shower with me?" He asked sheepishly. You smiled softly, setting the book face down and standing up to take his large, callused hands in yours. "Of course, babe. Why wouldn't I?" He just shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno… figured ya wouldn' want me to see ya… ya know… like tha'."

"Just because it seems like we aren't dating doesn't mean you're not my boyfriend." You reassured the archer. "Now c'mon before there's no more hot water left."

He allowed you to lead him to the showering quarters where you had begun to remove your clothes. He looked away bashfully, the tips of his ears turning red.

"D!" You giggled. "It's nothing you hadn't seen before. Now strip!" You commanded playfully. You kicked off your pants and panties, stripping off your shirt and sports bra before standing bare before him.

He had stripped down to nothing as you approached one of the enclosed showers. You twisted the knob and hot water sprayed down your sweat and dirt covered skin, drawing a blissful sigh from between your lips.

"Oh, Daryl! This is wonderful! You gotta get in here!" You cheered, standing under the head of it. You allowed the water to soak the front of your body, your head tipped back in relaxation.

You felt his warm body before you heard the door slide shut. You smiled gently when you felt his hands land on your plush hips, the hunter placing his chin in the crease of your neck. You squirmed at the feeling of his beard tickling your skin.

"It's been too long since we've been alone, huh?" You asked carelessly. You reached up an arm to massage at his scalp and he purred in delight. "Mhm." He agreed with a hum.

He let his hands wander up and down your body, his fingertips skimming over your nipple. You knew he didn't mean too, that he was just simply worshiping your body without any lustful intent behind his touches, but God, it's been so fucking long.

"Do that again. Please." You plead breathlessly. "Okay." His voice was gruff and deep as his palms cupped your breasts, twisting your nipples and teasing them just the way he remembered you liked.

You moaned softly, head falling back on his shoulder as he placed sweet kisses all up and down your skin. Your body heated up unashamedly, core dampening with each twist of his skillful fingers.

"'Missed you so much. Missed this."

"Missed ya too, sunshine." His hands descended down your torso to your weeping cunt. The rough pads of his fingers teased your labia, stroking it up and down in fluid motions before sinking two digits into you slowly.

"Ah! — shit." You gasped at the stretch of the intrusion. Your hips jolted out in an attempt to fuck yourself on his fingers; but with him, you never had to beg. He'd give you anything you'd ask for and tenfold.

"I gotcha, I gotcha." He cooed, lips settling near your ear so you could listen to his ragged breathing.

The only thing that could be heard over the splashing of the water was the squelch of your cunt followed by your ecstasy ridden moans. His fingers continually curled against your g-spot. You felt your stomach tighten, your grip on his hair tightening as well.

"I'm gonna cum, Daryl!" You gasped. You were on the precipice of pleasure, but you needed just a little bit more to push you over the edge. As if reading your mind, he inserted a finger and the pad of his thumb circled your clit.

"Cum f'me, sunshine." He demanded softly, a light rasp following his words. "Fuck!" You cried out, body quivering as your orgasm overtook you.

You could feel his hardness poking your back as he resumed his soft kisses to help bring you back down from your high.

"Don' gotta keep goin' if ya don' wanna."

"I wanna keep going, D. Please. 'S been too long." You begged, pressing your ass on his hard-on. He choked on a grunt, palms squeezing your wide hips. "Okay." He said thickly.

He turned you around, your arms instantly wrapping around his neck. He walked you back barely even a step before your back touched the surprisingly cool tile.

"'Wanna see ya." There was a sheepish look on his face at his own admission. "I wanna see you too, baby." You agreed, bringing your lips to his as they joined together in an amorous embrace.

He wrapped one of your legs around his hip, his tip poking at your folds. He reached a free hand down to guide his cock to your entrance where he slowly penetrated you.

You broke the kiss by your head falling back, your jaw slightly dropping at the intrusion.

"Fuck." You both called out in tandem when he bottomed out inside of you.

You spent a few moments catching your breath, but as need twisted in your gut, you squeezed down on him, pulling a bellowing groan from him.

"Please move, Dar."

You didn't need to tell him twice. He pulled out, before slamming into you, a loud slap resounding throughout the showers. You were glad that you decided to wait for him.

He tried to keep up a slow pace, but your noises and gummy walls beckoned him, sucking him greedily in an attempt to take him for all that he was worth.

You knew you'd be sore later with every smack of his toned hips to the insides of your plush thighs.

"Ya feel so good, sweetheart." He growled, his tip prodding at your g-spot with each thrust. "You feel good too!" You repeated back to him. "God, I missed you so much." You recalled once more, pulling the man to your body so there wasn't an inch of space left between the two of you.

"Missed ya too, sweetpea. 'Gonna make you cum real good, alrigh'?" You nodded fastly in excitement. "Need it." Your response was simple, but he knew it held a heavier meaning behind it.

You knew that you were going to cum soon, and if Daryl's dick twitching was any consolation, he was right behind you.

"I want you to cum with me, baby." He nodded, "I will, I will." He repeated breathlessly.

Your bodies worked in sync to bring the other to their climax, and when they were successful, Daryl was quick to pull out of you, jerking off before he exploded on the floor; whilst you rubbed your clit to completion.

"You okay sweetheart?" He asked. "Yeah," You responded with a heaving chest. "Just a little worried about the fact that the water feels a little chilly."

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

#♡ ― nsfmeau !#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day twelve #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon kinktober #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x plus size reader #daryl dixon smut #smut #fanfiction

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lipglossanon · 1 month ago

Text

Day 15

Kink: Rimming

Pairing: Real son!Leon S. Kennedy x mom!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE, Incest, son/mom incest, Leon POV, Halloween prank, slight violence lol, rimming, simp Leon lmao, begging, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread

He has it all planned out; there’s no way he can mess it up, even if his excitement gets the better of him (as it sometimes does concerning you).

You think he’s going out with some friends, a little Halloween party that’ll have him out of your hair. What you don’t know is Leon has snuck back into the house.

He kept on the silly clown mask but shed most of his clothes, leaving him in his boxer. Creeping through the house, he makes his way to your room. The door’s partially cracked with light spilling out into the dark hallway; Leon sneaks into your room and shuts the door behind him.

Your bed sheets are mussed but you’re nowhere to be seen. His eyes cut over to the bathroom door and that’s also partially open, the sound of a shower growing louder as he walks closer. He really couldn’t have timed this any better.

Leon watches you for a bit, eyes greedily taking in your silhouette through the shower stall. Your thick curves make him hard, cock chubbing up in his boxers. The grip on the mask in his hand slackens, drawing his awareness back to it. He knows you won’t see this coming and it’s making him nearly vibrate with excitement.

Slipping the mask over his face, he steps up to the shower stall and quickly slides open the door. A loud shriek makes his ears ring as you land a solid punch to his jaw.

“Wait! Wait! Mom! It’s me, fucking—chill out!”

He grabs your fist with one hand as he rips the mask off with the other.

“What in the fuck, Leon?!” You yell at him, sagging back against the tiled wall, yanking your hand from his grip.

“It’s just a prank,” he trails off, watching you scrub your face with your shaking hands.

You laugh, totally void of humor, “Well congratulations, you got me.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he softens his tone. “Honest, not like that at least.”

You look up at him, water misting across your body and distracting him. Leon lets his eyes follow the path water leaves on your body, taking in your wet tits and soft stomach.

“I am sorry,” he flicks his gaze back up to your face. “Let me make it up to you.”

You smile sardonically, “Mmhmm, I’ll bet you will.”

Ignoring your sarcasm, he slips off his boxers and pushes his way into the shower with you. It’s easy to manhandle you, even if his jaw’s a little sore from that right hook. With your back to him, he kneels behind you, groping your ass.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he breathes out, nipping at your cheeks. “Let me eat your ass.”

He hears you take a deep breath.

“You’re so obsessed,” you laugh and he grins to himself. “Fine, I guess.”

Groaning, he dives in, tongue lapping at your rim as he spreads you open. The water drums against his back, wetting his hair as he loses himself to licking and kissing at your hole. He shifts one hand from your cheek to slide his middle and ring finger into your fat pussy.

Moaning, he slides his tongue inside your ass the same time his grinds his fingers against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt. He listens as you gasp and mewl, both holes fluttering and clenching down on him. Leon settles down onto his knees more, mind humming in bliss as he eats you out.

You’re so wet, your slick starts to drip down his wrist. He grunts and fucks his tongue in and out of your hole, spitting on your rim before pressing back into your ass. His thumb starts to rub across your clit in time with his fingers and mouth. Eyes rolling back, his cock leaks precum as your moaning fills the shower.

He loses himself into making you feel good; he’s felt you cum on his fingers twice but it’s not until his legs go numb that he finally pulls his mouth away, kissing your rim one final time. You turn back around and he whimpers to see your wet, swollen cunt.

“Haven’t you been such a good boy?” your heavy lidded gaze stares down at him, making his cock bob and leak more. “Where do you wanna cum?”

“Pussy,” he blurts out. “Wanna cum in your pussy, mommy.”

You lower yourself down, sinking your soft hot pussy around his throbbing cock. His climax nearly knocks him over. He groans loudly, balls drawing up tight as he shoots his load deep in your cunt, tip pressed against your cervix.

“Mommy, mommy, so good, mommy,” he drools, face pressing into your tits.

“Such a sweet boy when you want to be,” you coo, petting his hair as he shudders underneath you.

He pouts when you pull away, but he does need to stand before his legs get any worse. Leon lets you help pull him to his feet, watching as you wash yourself off. He steps in once the pins and needles in his feet are gone, helping you with the last of rinsing off. He quickly cleans himself before getting out of the shower stall to grab you both towels.

You toe the clown mask where it’s lying in the floor.

“Please get rid of that,” you frown over at him.

“Will do,” he ducks his head, feeling sheepish. “Sorry again.”

You pat his cheek as you pass by to go into the bedroom.

“You’re forgiven.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #lipglossanon kinktober 2024 #real son!leon s kennedy #real son!leon #real son!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #fem!reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

Text

Consequences | Six | End

Word Count: 4k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, DD:DNE, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, death, Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, kinslayer aemond

Series Masterlist

Aemond woke the next morning with a burning migraine , the epicentre of which was at his temple, where the scar throbbed the worst. The bedsheets were draped around his waist, half of which were now on the floor with his restless sleep. Everything annoyed him, the light coming in through the curtains, any sound, any mild inconvenience like not having water at his bedside.

It was today that he’d face the repercussions of his actions. When everyone would know what he is.

Kinslayer.

He rubbed his temple, where his scar lay, with his palm, trying to ease the discomfort somewhat. He winced though when there was a soft knock at his chamber doors. It was different from her usual rhythm and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Prince Aemond” a soft voice called out behind the door. Not your grace.

He sighed, “Enter”

He groaned, rubbing his non-existent eye so hard he was beginning to see stars behind the other, wincing at the sound of his chamber doors closing, as soft as it was. Once he cracked his eye open and sat up, watching the little maidservant, with her braids tightly done, place his clothes for the day on the armchair. Aemond furrowed his brows, thinking that she was deliberately acting against him, in a direct refusal to obey him.

But then she had turned her head towards him, and it was like a slap across the face.

It was not her.

This other maidservant curtsies and proceeded to open his curtains, tying them at the sides to keep them open, visibly shaken by being in his presence, a notion that Aemond himself hates. He was sick and tired of people bristling away from him because of his appearance. Or perhaps there was another reason for this. And he wondered if everyone knew.

Kinslayer.

“Who are you” he said to her,

“Alanna, your grace” she says in return, not meeting his gaze as she continues doing her morning duties.

His maidservant would look him in the eye. This one didn’t.

“Where is she”

Alanna opened her mouth to ask who, but quickly closed to it, sensing it was a silly question.

“She is not at all well, your grace. I hope it does not inconvenience you” she says, clasping her hands together, something Aemond noticed that women do when they’re anxious.

He bit the inside of his cheek at her answer, drawing just the slightest bit of coppery blood. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to feel at her blatant disrespect for his wishes for her to return to her duties as soon as possible. But all those feelings dissipated when Alanna spoke again.

“Your mother wishes to break fast with you this morning” Alanna says politely, giving one shallow curtsy before exiting the room as fast as she could.

There was no time to feel angry at his little maidservant. Today he would be reprimanded by his family, seen for what he was, and punished for what he did. He didn’t want to. And he had been turning about the possibilities in his mind since Lucerys fell from the sky.

Does he lie. Does he lie and say that he went after his young nephew with malicious intent?

Or does he speak the truth. That he had no control over his own dragon and that Vhagar had actively sought the young Prince out herself, with Aemond begging on her back, for her to stop.

He was supposed to be the dutiful Prince Aemond. And there was the thought in the back of his mind, that if he said he hadn’t meant to do it, would anyone actually believe that, knowing the bad blood between them.

If he had to be the villain, then fine, he would have to act like it.

He got dressed slowly and secured his eyepatch, venturing out into the hallways for the first time that day. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face what his family would say, or the not-knowing of what they were all thinking.

So as he walked through the Keep, the stagnant waft of something horrid in the aura, his mind had drifted to her. The maidservant named Alanna said she felt ill.

She had mentioned a procedure, one which Aemond, in the heated moment when he’d seen her last, did not prod about. But he knew, he knew what it was. And there was a deep part of him that thought the action repulsive, to do such a thing to an unborn child. It was a sin, he thought at the time, perhaps the worst one. On one hand, he regretted his part in giving her the funds to do it.

But on the other hand, it was either one corpse that way or two the other. And inside him, he was too selfish to let her go. Especially a tumultuous time such as this, where he was quite possibly at his lowest, he needed the comfort she offered, even if it was only the comfort of her flesh against his. So he brushed the thought of the procedure away, in favour of thinking that it was no worse than Moon Tea and that it was the result of sheer desperation.

More than anything else, as he walked past the entrance to the staff quarters, he wondered. Did the procedure hurt? Was it so incredibly painful that she needed so much rest?

Had there been blood, he wondered.

Imagining it made something horrid curdle deep in his stomach.

Drawing blood from her, on the night he took her maidenhead felt right. Gods, it felt so right. To smear it over her thighs, to remind her of who she belonged to. He even remembered the way it felt. The way it had sent a dark, almost electric impulse up his spine, right to his head, inflating it with a sense of power.

But the thought of her bleeding now, as a result of whatever horrors had occurred. It was wrong. It felt wrong.

And for a brief moment, as he stared down the hall, he considered going to her. To do what, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t in his nature to apologise, not to be a soft, doting man to a woman. Such feelings, he felt, were below him.

So he didn’t.

He would face his family. Have whatever they threw at him. For better or for worse, he had a role to play, a script to read.

Kinslayer.

Aemond knew he was going to have teeth marks on the inside of his cheek by the end of the day if he didn’t stop. His stresses were so high though, he could not find it within himself to care.

It had gone about as well as he predicted. If not a little worse.

Breaking fast with his family, with his brother now sat at the centre as King, was an experience he wouldn’t like to repeat. His mother barely spared a look in his direction, staring straight at her plate, hands placed either side and clenched into fists, as if resisting the urge to move them at all. Her under eyes were puffy, like she’d been awake all night.

His grandfather, Otto had done rather the opposite, and kept his eye on him for the entire meal, as if anticipating he would act out if confronted. Aemond couldn’t fault the reasoning. If approached with the subject, he probably would have. He was at least grateful that the subject was not brought up, but was secretly apprehensive inside at what his family were thinking about him instead.

He felt like he’d regressed somewhat. As the sun began to set, he couldn’t bear to think of returning to his chambers, and so he did what he remembered he’d used to do. Usually, he’d go to Alicent, but as she was so upset and beyond offering compassion, he’d gone to Helaena instead. Where Alicent offered comfort in her words, Helaena offered it in her companionship in relative silence.

So he sat, a rapidly emptying goblet handing in his fingers, the other hand tapping against the armchair in Helaena’s chambers. Aegon, of course, was not present, as he rarely was alongside Helaena even in the days before his ascension to the throne. Not that Aemond would even be here in the first place if his brother was present.

Aemond had a book open in his lap, eye straining in the low light of the room, with only several candles wafting in the cool draught on each flat surface. Helena was sitting in her armchair next to him, her right hand poised with her needle and the other holding the off-white cotton with her embroidery pulled taught in the tambour frame. Past a few hums of concentration, the odd whisper and the whip of the candle flames as they danced, it was entirely quiet.

And though Aemond was hiding it well, his mind was busy.

It was dark, and yet his handmaid had still not returned to her duties.

He craved something, a closeness she could offer. And thought at first, Aemond surmised that he desired her bare flesh against his, the feeling of her heart drumming against her chest, her soft and gentle sounds, to remind him of his power and strength above her. But the more he pondered, not really reading the book in his lap and just staring blankly at the ever-entwined words, the more he realised what he really truly craved.

He wanted to hear her voice when she spoke. Wanted to feel her eyes on him, even fully clothed. Wanted to feel her soft breath against his skin.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

It suggested something Aemond didn’t want to know the meaning behind.

A light, cold breeze at Aemond’s feet made him shudder, and Helaena had raised her head when the candle at her side was snuffed out by the chill. She’d watched, stock still, as the blackened wick emitted the steady stream of thin smoke into the air.

Aemond, having seen his sister raise her head, had looked over, “What is it?”

But Helaena met his gaze and quickly turned back to her embroidery, shaking her head, as if ridding the thought from her mind altogether, whispering to herself once more.

He tried not to be concerned by his sister’s reaction. But it was clear as day on her face that something had perturbed her.

When it became too dark, he’d found the courage to return to her chambers. Her lack of presence there had his chest feel heavy. The bedsheets, once he’d crawled back into them, didn’t seem as soft and nowhere near as comforting. There was a chill about the room and though he could not see his own breath, he’d felt the sheer vastness of his solitude.

Aemond wanted to see her face. Feel the warmth of her blood beneath her skin.

Sleep took him at the thought of it.

“Your grace”

She walked through the doors of his chambers, her hair down about her shoulders in waves, as if they had been in plaits. Aemond opened his eye, his body lethargic and heavy, from something that seemed so much more endless and deep as sleep.

He saw the way she dreamily walked through his room in her usual uniform, her hair covering her expression. A small smirk came to his face. She was here.

She turned to face him, her face lit only by a small flame of a candle, flickering against her features. Aemond felt his blood run cold in his skin, his heart beating furiously inside his chest.

Blood.

All over her apron, hands and arms. Thick and fresh.

“It cannot be”

"Aegon!"

Aemond was awoken early in the morning, startled from sleep by his mother's voice as her hurried steps flew past his closed doors and to Aegon's chambers.

The speed at which Aemond had been forced from sleep to wakefulness sent his head all dizzy and his mother's voice had such an urgency about it. He was urged to his feet, pulling the closest thing around him to his body, which was his breeches and doublet, though it was left unbuckled at his chest.

The sun was barely up and when he'd poked his head out the doors, all he saw was the dizzying blur of his mother's auburn curls and a flash of neutral fabric, which must have been her robe. What on earth was his mother doing at this time in the morning? And with Aegon no less? Who quite possibly had not been in bed long.

Alicent threw the doors open, making for Aegon who was barely rousing from sleep with eyes cracked open thinly. Aemond knew his mother, wracked by sheer emotion, would most likely lash out at her eldest son, as she had done in the past, so he’d rushed to her side, gently pulling her arm back, keeping her from doing anything she might regret to the new King.

At this moment, Aegon was not her King. He was her son. And she had nearly forgotten that.

There were unshed tears in her eyes, “What is this?!” she threw the green silken purse at Aegon’s lap, making him groan in pain at the hefty throw, “Paying for some sinful, disgusting back-alley abortion? You cannot keep carrying on like this, Aegon!”

Aegon furrowed his brows, eyeing the purse Alicent had thrown in his lap with a groggy, tired expression, “What?...”

“Gods…Have you no shame? She had been with us barely half a year, Aegon!”

“Who?!” Aegon barked back, annoyed, and clearly confused.

“You know very well who! The poor girl whose silence you bought with coin!” Alicent was breathing heavily, feeling crowded and pulled her arm free of Aemond’s grasp weakly, “I thought you were past this, Aegon…”

Aegon stood from the bed, Helaena long absent from the chambers, it was probably for the best anyway. He held the sheets over his body, eyebrows furrowed once again in confusion.

Before Aegon could open his mouth, Hedi had appeared in the doorway, offering a curtsy with a sullen expression.

“Your grace” she greeted with a wavering voice.

Alicent swallowed, meeting her gaze with her watery, chocolate brown eyes, “The maester has confirmed it?...”

Hedi was pale and when she unclasped her hands, there was a smudge of dark blood on her apron. She nodded, “Yes, your grace…”

Hedi rushed to the door, forcefully using her shoulder to break through. Alanna was backed up in a corner, wailing and crying loudly, her whole body shaking.

“Hush, child, you’ll wake the whole Keep!” Hedi whispered once knelt before her.

Alanna choked on air, trying desperately to speak through her tears, “Sh-she…” was all she managed through quivering lips.

Hedi righted to stand and looked upon the girl in the bed, the sheets still tucked up to her chest. Looking upon her face, her eyelashes didn’t flutter, and though it would’ve been natural at first glance to assume she was merely sleeping, Hedi could see now that her chest was unmoving.

“Seven Hells…” Hedi whispered and when she’d touched her hand, it was cold and still.

Hedi looked over her, furrowed in confusion without any obvious sign of injury. Her hands pulled the bedsheets back and even the young woman, wise beyond her years, had almost gagged at the sight.

Waist down, with the darkest patch at the base of her torso, her chemise, bedsheet and mattress alike had been entirely soaked through with blood.

A heavy guilt set in Hedi’s heart, that she could not and had not kept her safe in her short time here.

“Gods…” Hedi had known this business, seen it for herself in the maidservants before her even, but she had never imagined that this sweet, quiet girl would have to suffer the same fate.

On her bedside, sat a green purse made of silk. Hedi needed to only have one look to see there were silver and gold coins inside, money that any average maidservant would never have had access to. Coins only the upper class would have.

Or royalty.

The older maidservant felt ill, as though she had failed her and not listened to her gut when it had screamed that she needed help.

All the while Alanna was still crying helplessly in the corner, “She is dead, isn’t she…” she’d asked in a weak voice.

Hedi swallowed thick and hurried Alanna out of the room, “Go to Mari’s room now, child. And do not say a word of this to anyone, understood?” Hedi instructed quite forcefully, ushering Alanna out of the room and locking it behind her.

Every step through the Keep to Queen Alicent’s chambers became heavier with Hedi’s hurried breathing, feeling the urge to both vomit and cry at the same time. The image of that young woman in her bed, locked behind that door and bathed in blood would be sealed into her head for the rest of her life. And though she was in no position to accuse anyone, she could at least show Alicent what her son was capable of and the irreparable damage that had been done.

Aemond had been silent the entire time, watching something akin to a tragedy unfolding right before his eye. He could feel his mother shake violently, in both a state of upset and anger at her eldest son.

Hedi had confirmed that the little maidservant was indeed dead, divulging the more clinical details that had included words like ‘perforation’ and ‘infection of the womb’. Alicent turned away, as if it would protect her from the words, holding her chest with her hand to calm her breathing.

Hedi’s watery, red eyes had met Aemond’s gaze then and that is where he had felt the hot whips of panic on the back of his neck. He knew. He knew that she also knew, but could not say anything. He watched as Hedi’s expression went from grief and mourning, to one of anger and a deep female rage that he couldn’t quite comprehend. Like she had felt the pain and loss of her death in her very being herself.

Hedi was the one who had seen her come back from her duties, hair down, limping and crying quietly. And she looked at him as if he were the most vile person she had the displeasure of laying eyes on.

“Do you…know of any family living?” Alicent asked.

Hedi briefly moved her gaze from Aemond, “A living sister, your grace”

“Send her wages and…necessary funds to her next of kin. Do not divulge her true manner of death, we shall say it was a low fever” Alicent said with a shaky breath, not wishing to look anyone in the eye.

Heid nodded, feeling dejected and saddened, for having to write to her living sister to tell these lies about her. And she thought…that the little maidservant would not feel right about it, but sincerely prayed that her soul would be at rest, and only hoped that she felt at peace in the end.

Once the maidservant was gone, Alicent turned to her second son, looking up at him, pale and disorientated. And when their eyes met, it was like Alicent was seeing Aemond for the first time, as if she’d just realised he was a man and no longer her small, desperate child. Her lips had parted then and Aemond felt hot and prickly all over.

Perhaps she knew as well. Deep down.

That both of her sons were capable of the same sordid behaviour.

She looked mournful. Grieving the loss of the Aemond she thought she knew. The one she had protected.

But if Alicent had seen it in Aemond, she did not say anything. And she left, letting Aemond stand there to ferment in his self-hatred.

His maidservant was dead.

And it had been his fault.

It had all been his fault.

Aegon and Aemond looked at one another. Aegon held the silken purse in his hand, looking at his younger brother knowingly. But instead of returning the purse to its rightful owner, Aegon had gripped it tight and gave Aemond a hard frown.

It had been his fault, and yet, with three people knowing without speaking, he had somehow managed to evade blame.

The maidservants took the bloodied bed sheets and mattress from the bed to be burned, standing beside the flames as they licked the blood away into ash with tears covering some of their cheeks. Freiya had not cried and instead, stood with a bitter expression, scolding the silly girl who had passed away for being involved in such vile actions.

Aemond did not see her bloodied corpse. Couldn’t, without revealing his own involvement.

But he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her like that.

He just knew he wished to see her. Alive.

A wish that could now, never be granted.

Her dearest friends, amongst Hedi and Alanna, had cleaned her body and given her one of their light cotton nightdresses, laid on the bed she had died in with a sheet laid underneath her. She didn’t look dead in the least, but only very pale. And all laid out in white like that, she looked just like a bride.

She could not afford a proper burial and so her body was committed to the flames. Her ashes returned to the earth.

History would not remember her.

She only existed in the memories of the people she had touched around her. And with their deaths, would be lost forever.

It was only expected that a lot of maidservants handed in their notices and left the employment of the Red Keep. Alicent understood and sent them off with a good reference, thinking that it was the least she could do to offer this kindness. A new wave of maidservants had arrived, as if there was a never-ending supply of young girls excited to serve under the Targaryen family and their new King. Something squeezed tight about Hedi’s heart to hear them sound so excited. She’d known at that moment, they needed her protection.

So Hedi had stepped in as Aemond’s personal maidservant. To protect them.

As if he had even wanted them in the first place.

Every single morning, Hedi entered his chambers, forever with an angered frown to her face, and a loss of that carefree lightness that was there before. She only ever greeted him with ‘Prince Aemond’ and left before he could say anything else to her. It was as if she knew that Aemond could not hurt her, could not raise his voice at her of all people, nor dismiss her.

He hated how quickly her death was forgotten, brushed over in less than a week's time. As if everyone else was not feeling the same tear in his heart as he was. That deep, burning, vomitting sensation he always got whenever he saw the back of one of the maidservants, their hair tied up on the same braids.

He willed his bed to give him her warmth. Arguing internally that she had been there not a week before, glowing for him as radiant as the day he'd laid eyes on her.

He had dreamt of her voice.

“Your grace”

He had dreamt of her skin, her soft, supple flesh against his. The warmth of her plush insides.

Her heart beating against his. The life that she exuded.

He didn’t think he was capable of feeling grief. Is this what it was?

This pain.

“Your grace”

There was nothing to contain him any longer. No outlet for his rage to find a home.

His fire had already claimed its first victim.

So he allowed it to kindle, with the ghostly whisper of her voice forever haunting him, his dreams. Her blood. Reminding him of what he had done. Reminding him of who he was. As if she was doing now in death what pain and regret she had always wished to inflict on him in life.

“Aemond”

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid @thedamewithabook @hiatuswhore @apollonshootafar @ladymarg0t @hopeless-addiction-love @leeleebabe101 @babyblue711 @croatianprincess @what-is-your-wish @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @garnetbutterflysblog @queenmizuki @tempt-ress @ithoughtulikedme @babyblue11 @qyburnsghost @heavenly1927 @madislayyy @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @eddiemunsonsgroupie @iloveallmyboys @malynn @qorirah

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

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mrsoharaa · 4 months ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 𝑰𝒏 𝑹𝒂𝒊𝒏!

characters: Miguel O'hara x Reader

cw; none! all fluff! rainy cuteness! (I honestly think about this type of scenario allll the time ♡)

a/n; couldn't stop thinking about this so I decided to write it! ..... at 2 in the morning LMAO! Miggy my beloved, you are sooo loved! (✿ ʃƪ ˘ ³ ˘) ♡ (another impeccablyyy self indulgent piece for my soul ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა)

since it's raining ever so gently and lovingly where I live rn I'm just thinking about reader happily twirling in the gentle pattering rain, arms stretched out, head tilted back to welcome the cooling droplets of the skies natural, tranquil gift cascading across their blissful face. A lulled delicate hum of delight rumbles from their chest, enjoying the cooling bits of the tittering rain caress the tender of their flesh. Basking in nature's soul cleansing refreshness.

Lost in their own little world, drowning in the pure delight and awe of the descending liquid seeping into their skin.

All while Miguel just crosses his arms and leans against the foot of your apartment front door, brows risen and a confused gaze hinting in such soft carmine irises.

"What are you doing? you're going to get sick, entra" he watches you smile wider, simply enjoying the blissful, peaceful moment of embracing natures purity. You stop momentarily in your tracks, now facing towards your looming boyfriend who was still wearing such a cynical expression. You giggle giddily, feeling the collecting moisture from the ground recoil over your bare feet.

"Come join me Miggy! it's so refreshing and freeing!" you chime with a perched smile, arms stretched out towards your skeptical partner. He scoffs, eliciting a eye roll.

"It won't be so refreshing when you get a cold the next morning, now come, before I have to go over there and throw you over my shoulders" he insists.

"Please! just...humor me Migs! I promise after one twirl, I'll come inside with you!" you swirl your arms a bit, flaunting him those wide, glimmering pretty doe eyes of yours, the very ones he could never refuse from you, with a beaming smile.

He groans inwardly, hesitating on his questionable decision but kicks himself out from the frame of your door. Slightly tenses up from the sudden change of temperature clouding over his stocky warm body, soften water droplets permeating through the waves of his beautiful cocoa locks to the comforting fabric of his clothes. Leaving little, to no room, for the wandering imagination.

He huffs out heavily, standing just a few inches before you, brows perking higher as he watches you gleam up at him with such wonderment and love. Can't help but raise a lipped smile as he feels your tiny hands entangle with his subtly, drawing him closer to you, allowing the rain to dance and embrace the two of you.

"See, it's completely soothing and soul cleansing, no?" you tilt your head to the right, still wearing that heart melting smile on your adoring face.

Miguel only hums in reply, glances up at the dim lit, foggy sky, seeing nothing but muggy darkness.

He closes his eyes slowly, musing to your silly portrayal about the rain being so cleansing and comforting. In a way...he did feel a sort of contentment resonate all over his firm body. Cradling, nurturing to his rugged soul.

You couldn't help the giddy grin widen across your radiant face, mirroring his actions with your hands still holding his.

The harmonic sound of the rain bouncing off against the ground around you and distant thunder wooed you both into a deep state of pliancy. Serenity.

Feeling your souls connect ever so perfectly with the pattering water waltzing around you.

Your fingers curl further into Miguel's deeper, pulling at his larger hands with a dire request.

Miguels lowly hums, peering open his eyes as he looks down at you, noting the familiar glint of want and admiration swelling in those gorgeous round globes of enchantment. A flash of unmistakable plea peering up at him, he could only scoff with a lit smile.

He carefully pulls you close to his looming stature, lifts his left hand to delicately brush away the sticking wet strands of your hair clinging to the sides of your face and tuck them behind your ear. Eyes never leaving one another, as his palm soothes down from the plush of your soaked cheeks to the side of your jaw, holding you still with tender and adoration.

"You really are something else, aren't you cariño?" he mutters softly, leaning down to press his lips against your own with such passion and affection. Smiles wider when he feels your body practically melt into his arms, your own lips curling into a wider smile as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, fingers generously weaving into his damped, soften curls.

#KISSING MIGGY IN THE RAIN IS A MUST #LIKE HELLO?!!#YES PLS 😩😭🥺💘💗💕#it's currently raining where I live and I could NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS #he WOULD be so skeptical and cynical about it at first! but once you convince him TIRELESSLY...he'd inevitably will cave in!!#THAT MAN WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU #I KNOW HE WOULD #I NEED TO EXPERIENCE THIS PLS #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv #I NEED THIS

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nackrosor · 7 months ago

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~ Childhood Sweethearts ~

[part 3/?]

Leon S. Kennedy x bestie!Reader

PART 1 | PART 2

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, roomates, pining, slow burn, eventual romance, eventual smut, reminiscing childhood memories series synopsis: You and Leon have been friends since you can remember. You've always been there for him, especially through the bad times. He's in a bad place again and he needs you. You're the only light in his pretty dark life. word count: 5k.

A smile lingered on your lips as you turned the corner and made your way to the kitchen. You could feel a newfound sense of joy pervading you at the memory of the excitement so plainly written all over Leon’s face when you agreed to let him move in with you. He did always look like a puppy when happy and you were sure that if you had squinted hard enough you could have seen his tail wagging enthusiastically back and forth.

“Heh”. You shook your head at the silly image, letting out a quiet giggle as you moved swiftly from one cupboard to another to get everything you needed to make breakfast.

He had never been able to mask his happiness, that much was true. Not when he was a child, not when he grew up. He could disguise any other emotion if he wanted to, and make it so hard for anyone to read him - sometimes you included - but he was so utterly incapable of masking his happiness. You’ve always wondered why…

With a sigh you grabbed a tablespoon, put some coffee into the filter, added water and then leaned against the counter to watch the brewing start. A frown slowly crept over your features.

Perhaps… The answer was less complex than you might have thought.

Aside from the shared joyful recollections of your childhood years, there had never been much good going on in his life, even back then. There was no denying it: discovering that your parents are criminals, witnessing their murder, and becoming an orphan all at once couldn't be a healthy foundation for a happy life. As a result, when those rare instances of happiness do occur, they trigger such genuine and overwhelming emotions that one cannot manage to contain them. That must be the explanation.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the counter as a vivid and powerful memory resurfaced to your mind.

One of that day. The day he was nearly taken away from you for the very first time.

You could still recall Leon’s blank face when your dad, a police officer at the time and the very one who had saved his life, brought him to your house to leave him in the care of your mother for a short while. You had no idea what had happened that day, you couldn't even imagine the trauma he had just gone through... But the instant you saw him, you could sense something was off, something was different. You dashed towards him and hugged him so tightly, only God knows for how long. And you were certain, even if you didn't realize it at the time, that he was quietly crying on your shoulder as he held you back. Yet, the image that had really carved its place in your mind and that you recalled the most vividly was how Leon pulled back from the hug and just… smiled. He smiled at you as if he was the happiest kid in the entire world. And you smiled right back at him.

Hell. That memory always did bring back chills, every goddamn time…

“Sleeping with your eyes open?”

Leon’s voice caught you off guard and you glanced briefly up at him to see him enter the kitchen with a spring in his step, before you hastily turned your back and blinked the tears away.

“Ha. Ha. I’m making you coffee, you should sound more grateful, you know?” you quipped back with a playful innuendo, hopefully masking the emotional trip you had just gone through in your head.

You busied yourself by staring down at the machine as if it would start brewing faster if you put pressure on it. You didn’t hear the rustle of clothes drawing nearer until Leon was standing right behind you, poking his head right over your shoulder.

You don't know what it was; the whole pot of coffee you drank to stay awake all night, the fact that you hadn't shut an eye in 24 hours, or the way that he was standing so close to you with his warm body literally pressing on your back... but your nerves suddenly gave up and you flinched hard, almost knocking the coffee machine off the counter.

Leon promptly grabbed your shoulders to keep you steady, and even if you didn't look straight up at him out of embarrassment, you could tell he was concerned.

"Hey, I can handle it myself. There's no reason for you to stay up any longer."

His palms were so warm against your bare skin, his touch so comforting and familiar... The urge to simply lean into him and feel his soothing warmth was so strong, nearly unbearable.

But, luckily, the machine beeped right then, and the brewing came to a halt, along with that awkward interlude you got caught up in. With a shake of your head, you took the bowl and focused on filling the Hello Kitty $1-deal mug you had purchased months ago but had never used; it was the only one you owned besides yours, so Leon would have to make do with it.

“You’re technically still a guest here, aren’t you?” you glanced up at him with a half-grin, grabbing the mug with both of your hands - just in case - and turned around to set it on the table. "So let me be the lady of the house and go sit your ass on that chair."

Leon shook his head with a silent chuckle and followed your orders opting for no rebutting, yet he couldn't pass up the opportunity to mockingly throw you a military salute.

“Yes, m’am.”

You gave him a pointed look, although the little smile playing on your lips sniffed out the playful nature of it. Turning your back on him again you grabbed the tray you had previously stuffed with all you could offer him for breakfast and placed it right in the center of the table.

“Bossy as usual, huh? Even when you’re about to collapse, you’re still hard as ever to reason with.”

You could catch the affectionate hint in his voice and you couldn’t help but huff a chuckle through your nose. Once you grabbed the gallon of milk and a cup, you dropped on the chair opposite his and let out a long tired yawn.

“Especially when I’m about to collapse.” you eventually retorted, pointing the tip of your spoon at him as if you had just reminded him of a well-known fact before you smiled and nodded at the tray.

“C’mon, dig in.”

“I just want to make one thing straight-” he started and you glanced up from your half-filled cup of milk, taken aback by the sudden grave tone in his voice. He made sure to give you a long and meaningful look before he added: “I am grateful. For everything.”

You matched his expression, your stomach fluttering under the intensity of his gaze.

“I know.” you simply answered, no humor or mocking tainting your voice this time.

Leon gave you a firm nod in return and then finally dug in his breakfast.

You joined him right away, grabbing some cookies, soaking them in the milk and shoving them in your mouth before they could flop and melt. All the while you kept on peering up at your friend, finding solace in the way he seemed to enjoy the food, munching and sipping with gusto as if he hadn’t had a nice meal in days. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was indeed the case.

“Mmm, this croissant is great!” he announced, giving it another good bite. “You made it?”

You almost snorted the milk straight out of your nose.

“Me??” Your eyebrows shot comically up to your hairline. You must have had such a weirded out look on your face that Leon couldn’t help but chortle and look away to avoid choking on his mouthful. “‘Sorry I burned the cake I made for your birthday and never tried baking ever since’, little ol’ me???”

You too tried to bite back a laugh as you watched Leon struggle to swallow the food and answer.

“You were like 14…”

“Yeah and I’m still 14 in that regard. Me and baking it’s a no-no.” you quipped back, throwing him a sharp look that said ‘believe me, you don’t wanna know’. “The only thing I did to those croissants was stuffing them with nut cream.”

“Ah! That!” Leon animatedly wiggled his finger at you and nodded knowingly. “Yeees. That’s what it is, then. You stuffed it juuust right. And that’s a skill!”

You stared at him long and hard, a deadpan look on your face, until you couldn't keep it together any longer and burst out laughing.

“What a fucking dork!”

Leon seemed pleased with your reaction and grinned triumphantly at you. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he watched your laughter ease into a big smile.

“A veeery grateful dork who appreciates the efforts taken in putting together this breakfast.”

"Yeah. Yeah." You brushed off his attempt at flattery with a flick of your hand and resumed eating, although not before belting out another chuckle. “Kudos for trying, soon-to-be roomie. It won’t save you from all the future dish duty, though.”

You glanced up again mid-bite when you realized he was still staring at you. Your brows arched in an inquisitive look.

"What?"

“That sound…”

He smiled as your head tilted to the side in a perplexed twitch.

"Your laugh. I missed that."

"Ah."

You had to look away, afraid that the way his words had made your heart race would somehow show on your face. Sometimes your friend would say such touching things with such stark bluntness that you didn't know how to react. Especially without making it obvious how smitten you were with him.

“I haven’t heard it in a while.”

You grabbed your cup of milk and chugged it down in one big gulp merely to buy some time for your heartbeat to ease down.

“Well, you’ve been away for a while.” You eventually replied with a casual shrug and leaned back in your seat, arms lazily crossed over your chest. You focused your gaze on him, your expression turning a bit more serious. “Extra top secret mission?”

He just nodded, a dark look clouding his sparkling eyes and you knew not to ask any further questions. He wouldn’t have told you anything about it anyway.

“The point is…” he started again and the clouds instantly faded back into a serene blue sky. “It brings back good memories. I've been thinking a lot about those recently."

You softly hummed along, your eyes roaming over his face as those heartwrenching words he had uttered earlier, made their way back to your mind.

“I wish we could go back to the good days” he had said, “I wish it was always just you and me”, “ I wish that you were there for me all the time.”

You could feel your chest grow heavy all over again at the memory of a distraught Leon whispering those heartfelt words to you and you had to force yourself to take a long, deep breath to regain some control over your body. You hadn’t had a minute alone since that serious and profound conversation you had with him, a moment to process it, digest it, take in all the very serious implications behind it. And thinking about it now, with your body working on energy saving and Leon seemingly feeling better, it wasn’t really the best of times.

But… There was also something else that had kept swirling in your mind since you heard it escape his lips the night before. Something you just couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard you tried. You couldn't help but think that that very soft-spoken “I love you” he had whispered before passing out had sounded so genuine… As if he had truly meant it… And not in a platonic way.

Was it too pathetically delusional of you to hope he had truly meant it?

“Y/N?”

Leon’s warm voice ripped you out of your thoughts and you hastily focused back on him.

“Hm?”

You were relieved to see the understanding look he gave you. You had been awake for a whole day now, you could be excused for zoning out for a moment without raising questions, after all.

“I asked you if… if you frequently think back to those times, too? To when we were kids, especially.”

“Of course I do. Everyday.” you admitted without hesitation, eyes widening slightly at how easily the words flowed from your mouth. Perhaps you had been too honest about it? Leon looked startled as well.

No, actually… He seemed relieved by how direct and sincere your answer had been.

He leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh, his eyes drawn to the tray in front of him. As his gaze grew distant, you dreaded what was about to come. Was he going to pour his heart out yet again, come up with some more gut-wrenching stuff that would most likely deliver the ultimate blow and send you K.O.? You would not withstand one more confession like the ones he had made already.

Instead, you watched with a flutter in your chest as his lips curled up even further until a genuine smile bloomed on his face. His eyes twinkled with such vitality. That. That was a rare sight… and the most precious one to witness. You felt blessed and lucky to have seen it more than anyone else.

"The cookies," he began, tipping his chin towards the serving plate of goodies. "They resemble those your mother used to make almost every day. I still remember that scent..."

He plucked one from the plate and brought it up to his nose to sniff it, as if he seeked to revisit that same aroma again. You grinned knowingly as his eyes widened and his entire face lit up with recognition. He looked at you with a silent query in his blue eyes, and you nodded, a cheeky grin spreading on your face.

“Yep. Mom made them. I’m quite honestly impressed you could still smell it on ‘em since they’re more than a week old. You have a bloodhound’ nose, I swear.”

“Heh. Comes with the job.”

“Huh-huh.”

No. It did not come with the job. He was born with it. You had seen it, and you remembered one time clearly when he had so blatantly made a show of it. You had spent the entire afternoon with a classmate, a nerdy boy who was forced to assist you with your math homework because you had been struggling that year. That same evening, when you met with Leon to play, he smelled that boy's scent on you, as if you had bathed in it. He appeared to be really upset about it. He sulked and moped and whined about it basically the entire time. That one memory always came back with a thrill of satisfaction buzzing within you. Leon had made such an uproar out of jealousy, that much had been obvious even to a very giddy 8-year-old you.

When you returned to the present conversation with Leon, you realized with a smile that he was still reminiscing about all the times you devoured those exact cookies for breakfast whenever he was at your place. You too remembered. You ate breakfast together at least twice a week. It helped to be neighbors on the outskirts; you could spend time together every day, multiple times a day, and you would always meet at your house, since his parents would leave Leon alone quite frequently. Much too frequently; at the time you still didn't know why.

“-you ate them every day and yet whenever I had breakfast with you, you would always steal one of mine. Sometimes even two.”

You caught Leon throwing you a playful glare as he hit you with that nostalgic jab and you couldn’t help but giggle, a sly glint passing across your eyes.

It was true. You used to do that. But in your defense, you were a young, shy girl with a major crush on her best friend. It was always meant to be a very innocent way to grab your friend’s attention. Even then, all you ever wanted was to have his blue eyes trained on you at every waking moment.

With Leon gazing down at the crusty pastry, seemingly lost in one of his reveries, you felt that it might be fun to relive that one memory just for the thrill of it. Leaning forward, with one quick flick of your hand you grasped the cookie right out of his fingers. The outraged gasp that he rewarded you with definitely made the childish deed worth it. But it was that look, that fond look he gave you that felt like the real reward.

“Like the good old times, huh?” You winked at him and bit back your silly grin as you popped the cookie into your mouth.

He shook his head, his lips pursed in a mocking, unimpressed grimace.

“Some people never change.”

And yet, he sounded pleased with it. There was something in his warm, humorless tone, in the way his sparkling eyes lingered on you as he said that, that caused your insides to flip and turn not once, but twice, with your heart missing a beat as well just because it didn't want to lose out on the fun.

You held his gaze for a few moments as you chewed on the cookie, until you felt your heart beg you to look away.

"Anyway…" You swallowed and cleared your throat, lazily settling back in your seat. Another yawn escaped you just as you reverted your focus on him, and you thought you caught him beaming affectionately at the sight. For your own sake, you decided to brush it off. “Now that you’re back, you should go pay my folks a visit. You know how my mom is. She’d bake you some of those cookies before you even have time to say hello. She'll give you a bag or two to bring home, too.”

“Hm. It’s been quite a while since I last saw them…” He hummed and nodded along, a pensive look on his face. “We could go together.”

“I g-guess, yeah…” you shrugged your shoulders and tried to mask the sudden raspiness of your voice by clearing your throat again. You hadn’t visited your parents together since that last lunch you had a couple of years ago at their house, when it really dawned on you just how serious your feelings for Leon were. You remembered that moment clearly, as if it had happened yesterday. Your friend was chatting amicably with your dad, making your old man laugh just as he always did. Your mom had that serene look on her face, that one she always seemed to have whenever Leon was around. And you? You were looking at the scene, taking in that precious image of a happy little family, soaking in the genuine love that oozed from each one of them… and your weak heart nearly combusted right then and there. You made a pledge to yourself that day: Leon or nobody. Because there was no one like him, really. No one that could make your dad so genuinely happy or your mother feel so safe and at ease. No one that would make your heart beat so violently in your chest. So you’d rather live your life with no partner at all than settle for someone who wasn’t him.

You just needed to find the courage to tell him.

If only you weren’t such a big coward.

“But… since you’re moving in with me, you’ll probably see them soon enough.” you stated, trying to tune back into the conversation as if you hadn’t just gone on a mental tangent that had left your mind reeling and your heart aching. “You know, they have started to come visit me once or twice every month.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but they don’t stay overnight or anything.” you swiftly explained. Your tone took up a hint of humor as you added, “You won’t have to share one bed in three, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I would leave the guest room to them anyway. I’d much rather sleep in your bed. It’s very comfy.” he quipped back with a smirk that made your stomach flip.

“Yeah… Dream on, boy.”

To be honest, you had dreamed of that very same thing happening more times than should be socially accepted. There was no way you’d admit to that, though.

“They just come to say hi, anyway. To make sure I'm doing alright here by myself.” you said, veering the conversation back to a much safer territory. “But I’m quite sure they mainly come to these parts to get a taste of the city life, you know? They've been taking away some whim with dad’s retirement money, living it up a little now that they’re free and old but not that old.'' You paused to share a knowing smile with your friend; you both knew that if your parents had been there, they would have made such a scene over being deemed old. “They like to visit museums and exhibitions, mostly. They look like a cute elderly couple, arm in arm, bickering about the painting's meanings and all that. I know because I chaperoned them the first time.”

Leon listened to you with a fond little smile curling up his lips. Your parents had always been very dear to him for obvious reasons, even more so than your late aunt who had welcomed and taken care of him once he became an orphan and until he left for the police academy in his teens. He was so attached to them that you found yourself worrying more than once if he considered them his parents as well, and you his... younger sister. But you had always tried with all your might to shake the notion away from your mind. You'd get queasy just thinking about it.

“That’s good to hear. They should enjoy their life, now that they can.” He commented, fingers lazily fidgeting with the napkin on the table while he kept his attentive eyes fixed on your face. “We could do that too.”

Mild heart attack.

“Huh? Do… What?”

“Go to museums, exhibitions and whatnot.”

Those words truly made you question whether he wasn't just messing with you, despite the fact that you hadn't picked up on any humor in his voice. Nonetheless, you tried to keep your heartbeat at bay while flashing him a skeptical look.

“But you don’t like any of that.”

"Sure. But you do."

Effortless answer, maximum hit to your heart. He had voiced it with such straightforward frankness that you were left genuinely speechless for a moment.

“I wouldn’t mind going with you.” He added, shrugging his shoulders, as if the answer was so obvious to him that it didn't even need an explanation.

“Huh… Riiight…”

You eyed him curiously, warily even, ready for the punchline he must have been holding back. When none arrived however, your eyes narrowed and your lips pursed in a confused pout. "Have I fallen asleep? Am I sleeping right now? 'Cause that's not something the Leon I know would say." Your tone had a sardonic edge to it, for you were clearly retorting to humor to try to disguise the emotional turmoil he had caused within you with what he had said. Hopefully, it wasn't that evident to him too. “This must be a dream, or something…”

“Eh. Does that mean you dream of me?”

Fuck. You had walked straight into that one. You couldn’t even be mad at him for making your stomach flip like that or for flashing you that smug smirk of his.

With a half-groan, half-grimace, you slapped your hand in the air to ward off his joke and flopped on the table, laying your heavy head on your arms.

“Had a nightmare or two where you showed up, sure.”

That was a lame comeback, you knew it. Of course you knew. But, what else could you have said? You were too preoccupied with hiding your blush from him to come up with a better quip. At that point, you were also struggling to prevent your weary mind from blurting out something far more honest, which would inevitably ruin everything.

God. You truly were just too exhausted. And it wasn't only the sleep-deprived tiredness that was weighing on you, but also the 'I have to double-check every word I say and every little reaction I make so that my best friend doesn't realize I'm in love with him' load that was draining you. And to think this was only the first day of living together…

Well, actually not even the first day. You could only imagine what it would be like to go through this every day, for who knows how long. There was no way you could survive it...

You were too caught up in the webs that were plaguing your mind to register the strong pair of hands grabbing you by the middle before you were tugged out of your chair and lifted into the air.

When a shocked gasp escaped your lips, you were already securely enveloped by two massive arms as solid as steel.

Oh, you were certain. You were absolutely certain that your face resembled a tomato as you raised your wide eyes and met his lazy smile, given that you could feel your cheeks burning.

“The fuck-?!”

Leon snorted at your reaction, his eyes traveling across your face as if to enjoy your flustered state. "I thought you fell asleep," he joked, blatantly lying as he squeezed you playfully and started carrying you out of the kitchen toward your bedroom.

“Leon, god… really?”

That was so unnecessarily extra of him. He did that on purpose, obviously. As he had always done in the past. In fact, after his first year at the academy, he began to pick you up out of nowhere to flaunt off his buff and strong physique, and it only worsened over time. He would lift you up whenever and wherever he wanted, simply to annoy you... and make your stomach do a somersault.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t always enjoy when I did this.”

“I always despised it with my whole being.”

Lie. Biggest lie you could tell. But then again, telling him that you adored how his large and muscular arms swallowed your frame, keeping you snug against his chest and carrying you effortlessly about, or how every freaking time he did that, he caused those stupid butterflies to wreak havoc in your gut, was definitely out of question.

"Huh-huh."

He smirked knowingly, seeing right through your snarky response. The amused glance he threw you compelled you to simply shut your mouth. At that point, you didn’t trust your voice anymore.

You tried to refrain from plainly staring at him the entire time. To not linger on his chiseled jaw, or admire his rosy lips, or the way they curled up in that familiar languid smile. You tried not to marvel at his focused gaze or his long eyelashes which made his eyes look even prettier from below…

You tried. But it was hard. Hard not to be dazzled by his effortless beauty, especially when his face had moved suddenly so close to yours, you could feel his hot breath blowing on your cheek.

You were locked in a daze as he eased you out of his arms and onto your bed. You couldn't tear your gaze away from him, even as he grabbed the blankets and tucked you in, ensuring you were well covered and comfy.

When your eyes met, you felt one of those all-too-familiar thrills rush through every cell of your body.

Oh, you were about to lose it. To do something crazy, something stupid…

Your breath caught when he leaned in again, his fingertips gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling.

“Sleep tight, cookie.”

There was no way you could hold back the genuine grin that bloomed on your face upon hearing the nickname he chose to use. You had been calling each other in every way possible since you were kids; it was one of your favorite pastimes. ‘Cookie’ was a nice addition to the collection.

"Thanks, pup." you quipped back, eyes flashing with amusement and pure affection. "You gonna guard the house while I take a nap, yeah?"

"Like a good boy."

"Mhmm."

You exchanged one last lingering look that almost made you melt in a puddle - and you were glad you were already lying down because your knees couldn't have taken it - before he drew back and headed to the door.

"Dream of me." he teased you as he stood by the entrance, triggering a loud groan from you.

"Shut up-"

You rolled onto your side and hid your face in the pillow as he chuckled softly at your expense. You did not raise your head until you heard the door close. Only then did you let out a long, shaken breath. You could still feel your face burning, your cheeks warm to the touch, and your heart racing in your chest.

What a crazy day! And it wasn't over yet. You were both thrilled and nervous about waking up and spending more time with Leon. You'd need to help him move in, clear his room of your belongings, have a very serious roomie to roomie talk...

But everything would have to wait. Sleep was catching up with you and you had evaded it long enough. The coziness of your bed, along with the pleasant fuzziness still lingering in your chest caused your eyes to grow heavy within seconds. With a yawn, you rolled to the other side, where the sheets from the night prior remained unmade. Your hand lazily clutched the other pillow and pulled it closer.

His scent. It still carried his scent… You nuzzled your cheek into the fabric and took a long breath.

A fond smile tugged at your lips as your eyelids fluttered closed and you dozed off.