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sirenpearldust · 12 days ago

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Found You 3

Baby Daddy Azriel!

Series masterlist ⋆ Part two ⋆ Part four

Pair: Azriel x Spring Court! Reader

Word count: 4.369

Warning: violence, domestic abuse

Summary: Chaos enters Spring

The clock was ticking and your eyes were on it. He was late - again.

You and Amias had been waiting for Azriel, he should have arrived hours ago. It was already ten past twelve.

“Mama, is Daddy coming?”

“Yes, darling. He is probably just busy for a bit longer.”

Azriel’s visits had been irregular over the past few weeks. Sometimes, he sent letters explaining that work was keeping him away.

Nine days had passed since Amias had last seen him.

You could see the sadness in his eyes. He tried to hide it, but you saw the unshed tear.

His toys laid forgotten around him, his small wings were drooping on the floor and his shadows curled around him, just like Azriel’s always did.

He could barely sleep the night before, too excited about training with his father and spending time with him. At dawn, he had woken you up just to gush about how cool his father was- how tall, how strong.

You had smiled, glad that Azriel had been a good father since getting to know Amias. But still, you remained cautious. The irregular visits were starting to wear on you.

Where is he?

He could have at least sent a letter?!

A knock echoed at the door.

“Come in,” you said, hoping, for your son’s sake, that it was news of his father.

Instead, a servant stepped inside, bowing slightly.

“My lady, the Autumn Court heir has arrived and requests an audience. He says it is of utmost importance.”

You exhaled sharply.

What now?

Nodding, you rose to your feet, silently praying this had nothing to do with Azriel’s disappearance.

“Nara, take care of Amias,” you instructed.

But before you could take a step, Amias stood up, his small frame trembling. Tears spilled down his red cheeks as he ran to you, clinging tightly to your leg.

“Mommy,” he whimpered.

“Baby, it’s okay. I promise I’m coming back,” you whispered, running a gentle hand through his dark curls.

But he only sobbed harder, his little hands gripping your blue dress with all the strength he had.

“D-Dont… please. Daddy is already gone… please don’t leave too,” he hiccuped, his voice breaking, as he sobbed louder.

Your heart burned. Kneeling down, you cupped his tear-streaked face.

“Amias, listen to me. Mommy is just going to talk to Uncle Eris and see if he knows something about Daddy, okay? I won’t gone long.”

He kept crying, though and guilt sank deep into your chest. This was your fault. You should have been more attentive, should have reassured him more, should have…

You swallowed hard. Now he thinks you’ll disappear too and that also because you were busy with work.

Something tugged at you, an uneasy feeling.

“Nara, please take care of him,” you said, forcing yourself to step back.

She gently tried prying him from your arms, but he would not let go.

“No, mommy p-please d-don’t”

His hand stretched out to you as he tried getting out of her arms.

You were sick seeing your son like this. Anger burned beneath your skin, you were angry at your self, at Azriel, at life and your duties.

You turned on your heel with a heavy heart, storming toward the room where Eris was waiting, your patience long gone.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

Stepping into the room, you froze, stunned by what you saw.

What in the abomination is this?

Your jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as you glared at Eris.

“I left my son alone for this?” you bit out, tilting your head toward the older Archeron sister standing beside him. Her head was ducked down and you could only see the mop of light brown hair she shared with her younger sister. It fell in a messy low bun. The resemblance between them was striking.

“Let me explain,” Eris said quickly, positioning himself between the both of you.

“You have five minutes. Do you understand?” Your voice was sharp, edged with barely restrained fury.

Turning you glared at Nesta Archeron, adding, “And you’d better not cause trouble in my court, like your sister”

Without waiting for a response, you turned. Eris followed you to your office, a space where no one could overhear or interrupt.

The moment the door shut behind you, you crossed your arms.

“Talk.”

“She needs to stay here, she can’t stay anywhere else,” Eris said, his tone clipped.

You arched a brow, then let out a sharp laugh, slow-clapping your hands.

“Are you serious, Eris?” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

“Having an Archeron in Spring started this whole mess in the first place.”

“It’s different this time,” he said, but you only laughed bitterly.

Walking toward him, you raised your voice, pointing your finger sharply at his chest, pushing him back. His jaw clenched, a muscle in his cheek twitching, he hated when you did that.

“She’s mated to the Night Court’s general, for gods’ sake. Have you lost your mind. Hiding her here, kidnapping her, will bring war to both our doorsteps. I have Amias to think about for Gods sake.”

“I know but I swear, it’s not the same,” Eris insisted.

“It is.” Your voice sharpened.

“Have you forgotten what happened the last time? When the night court whore, her sister might I add, was here?”

Eris hesitated. “That’s… different.”

“How the fuck is this different?” Your brow furrowed.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled red hair.

“Because Rhysand wants her dead.”

Your confusion deepened. “What? What do you mean he wants her dead? She’s his mates sister?”

“I know. It’s just things have been happening,” Eris muttered, his frustration evident. He licked his lips before sinking into a chair. For the first time, you truly looked at him, his usually pristine clothes were wrinkled, his hair an unkempt mess.

“What the hell is going on?” you demanded.

He sighed. “We’ve been exchanging letters for a while. And that brute she’s mated to-let’s just say he hasn’t been kind to her.”

Your stomach twisted. “Be specific, Eris. I’m going to live with her, I need to know how I’m gonna take care of her.”

You meant your words, your mother had been through abuse in her first marriage, before she met your father.

His amber eyes met yours, filled with something between anger and sadness.

“They’ve kept her locked in that house, forced her to work with him, train against her will, to endure his verbal abuse.”

You exhaled sharply. “Eris, if your feelings are involved he could challenge you to a blood duel, and what if she changes her mind and wants to go back?”

“She doesn’t want to go back, he’s been cruel, they’ve been cruel. He wants children, he tried impregnating her, guilting her into not drinking the potion. She was miserable there.

She left them a goodbye letter saying she fled to the Continent and found a man while working. No one knows she’s here. No one knows I’m involved. She covered her tracks. Lucien is taking care of the rest.”

You leaned against your desk, rubbing your temples.

“She won’t be safe in Spring if they find out.”

“Then hide her in your manor, just until I figure something out.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You mean until you figure out how to deal with your father which, might I add, Night is supposed to be helping you with.”

Your voice dropped into a harsh whisper.

“Eris, you need them as your ally. I’ve been talking to Helion, but he hasn’t been responding well to this plan of ours. He’s worried about your mother’s life and now with Nesta in the game,” you said, your voice firm, as you crossed your arms.

“He is not supposed to be involved, he’s at fault for her misery in the first place. I have everything under control,” Eris snapped, frustration evident in his tone.

You laughed bitterly.

“You just showed me how much control you have. Helion needs to be involved because your mother is his mate, just like Nesta is Cassian’s mate. Do you see how many problems this might cause?”

His glare was sharp, his jaw clenched in anger. “And what about your mate?” he seethed.

Your powers flared to life, vines curling slowly behind your back, twisting with an almost dangerous grace.

“That’s a new low, Eris,” you said coldly. “Mind your tongue.”

The room pulsed with the intensity of your anger, your gaze locked with his as the vines continued to unravel.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have.”

Eris clenched his jaw and he didn’t argue further.

You exhaled. “ She can stay, under the condition that she follows my rules.”

“She will,” Eris said.

“She won’t be harmed. She’ll be treated with dignity and respect. I promise”

Eris stood up, stepping closer. His expression softened as he placed his hands gently around you.

Then, with a quiet exhale, he hugged you. It was hesitant at first, as if he was afraid you might still push him away. But when you didn’t, he tightened his grip, pulling you tighter.

He needed the reassurance and to be honest you needed it too. You were touch starved.

The last time this had happened, you were both sixteen, young, reckless and untouched by the burdens that now were weighing on you.

That night, in the quiet of the woods, you had made a bargain to always protect eachother and be loyal to one another.

Now, years later, everything was different. And yet, for the briefest moment, as you stood in his arms, it felt like nothing had changed at all, like it was before the duties and the wars that had hardened you both.

But for just a second, you let yourself rest in the warmth of his embrace.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“You know I still owe you Amias’ life and mine,” you murmured.

Eris nodded, understanding in his gaze.

“Tell him I love him,” he added softly, “and that I’m sorry I brought no presents this time.”

“I will.”

You exhaled, stepping back. “Now go, before I kick you out.”

Eris smirked. “Fine. I’ll come back later tonight.”

With that, you turned and walked out, making your way back to Amias.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

As you entered the room, your heart clenched. He had fallen asleep on the floor beside his toys, his small frame curled up, his wings enveloping his body as if he was hiding. His eyes fluttered open as he sensed your presence, his shadows slithered toward you, wrapping around your wrists as they tugged you closer to him.

“Has his father arrived?” you asked Nara quietly.

She shook her head. “Not even a letter, my lady.”

You swallowed the frustration rising in your throat.

Kneeling beside Amias, you gently brushed a curl from his damp cheek.

“Amias,” you whispered.

He stirred, slowly sitting up, his puffy, red-rimmed eyes locking onto yours. He must have cried himself to sleep.

Guilt twisted in your chest. You cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mommy had to talk with Uncle Eris.”

He blinked up at you. “Uncle Eris?”

You smiled faintly. “He’s sorry he couldn’t stay and he loves you very much.”

Amias nodded, rubbing at his tired eyes. Then, hesitantly, he asked, “Where is Daddy?”

You winced.

“Your father is coming later tonight,” you assured him.

“But he’ll make it up to you. He loves you very much, angel.”

Another small nod. But this time, there was hesitation in his expression, doubt creeping in.

“Will he come back?”

“Of course,” you said gently. “It’s just work.”

He nodded again, but sadness lingered in his gaze.

You pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, my sweet boy.”

He curled into your arms and as you held him. The thought of leaving him again, even just to deal with your new guest made your chest tighten.

But there was no choice.

You had a mess to clean up.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

Before you even reached the room, you could hear the shouting.

Multiple voices clashed over one another, servants hurriedly rushing away and power crackled in the air like a brewing storm.

Azriel was back.

Eris didn’t know about your bargain. You scolded yourself for the oversight, for not anticipating this.

Heart pounding, you pushed forward, stepping into the chaos.

The scene before you was nothing short of a battlefield. The eldest Archeron sister stood behind Eris, half-hidden. Meanwhile, Lucien and Azriel were locked in a furious shouting match, their magic glowing.

Without hesitation, you slammed the heavy door shut.

Silence.

All heads snapped toward you, the tension thick enough to suffocate. The only sound left in the room was the sharp clack of your heels against the marble floor as you strode forward.

Azriel was a mess. His leathers were torn, his face bruised and bloodied, his normally pristine hair disheveled. He looked like he’d been in a fight, a bad one. But none of the others bore a single scratch. Whatever had happened, it had been before he came here.

You came to a stop in front of him, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. His massive wings were flared wide, casting a dark shadow over you. His golden-hazel eyes, now looking like liquid gold were locked onto Eris, his shadows writhing around him like vipers, ready to strike.

“Azriel,” you whispered.

He didn’t move. Didn’t look at you. His gaze stayed fixed on Eris, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Turning away from him, you addressed the others.

“How the fuck can he enter?” Lucien demanded, his voice sharp.

“I will explain it later,” you promised, exhaling through your nose.

“That was an oversight on my part.”

Eris stood firm, Nesta’s hand clasped tightly in his. She pressed herself further behind him, looking fragile, she was too thin, to small. Your gaze flicked back to Eris, searching his face for the anger you knew was brewing beneath his carefully controlled expression.

“I will take care of it,” you said, voice steady.

“I promise you, nothing is as it seems right now. She is safe and welcome here.”

The bargain between you pulsed, a reminder to Eris of the vow you had made.

Eris’s jaw tensed, his features hardening for a moment before something in him relented. He believed you. Even if his body remained coiled tight with tension, his grip on Nesta’s hand loosened just slightly.

“Lex will see that you are accommodated, undisturbed and left in peace,” you said evenly. Your voice left no room for argument. “No one will harm you in my home.”

The three walked out and Azriel moved to follow, but you grabbed his wrist gently.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice firm yet soft.

His jaw clenched in frustration. He didn’t pull away, but his posture stiffened, as if he were ready to break.

When the door clicked shut behind them, Azriel’s eyes focused solely on you. His wings were still spread wide, his golden eyes locked onto yours, intense and piercing.

You felt small in front of him, towering over you like a giant, but you felt no fear. His presence was overwhelming, yet strangely comforting. His shadows reached out, enveloping your body in a cool, almost soothing embrace. They were like a second skin.

“Sit,” you said, motioning toward the chair opposite you.

He hesitated for a moment before lowering himself into the seat, his body still tense as if every muscle was on alert.

Your gaze scanned his body as you took in the damage. His knuckles were swollen, the deep bruises darkening his skin. His body was covered in cuts and bruises.

Kneeling infront of him you softly took his hand, gently healing it with your magic. You moved slowly, deliberately, feeling the power flow through you, soothing the pain in his injured hand.

“Where were you?” you asked quietly, focusing on his hand, avoiding looking into his eyes for a moment.

His voice was rough as he answered, his gaze never leaving you.

“Searching.”

“For the eldest, I presume?” you asked, your fingers intertwined with his.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours as you worked, your touch soft but deliberate.

You bent his hand gently to assess the damage.

Azriel liked the quiet, how quiet his head was with you right now. His heart began to pound, a realisation dawning on him. He liked the way you touched him, how soft and careful you were, just like you used to be.

Bending his hand back, you asked, “Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, though the faint wince in his expression suggested otherwise.

Your face softened, but your words were anything but gentle.

“The next time you come like this into my house, I will skin you and string you up for everyone to see.”

Azriel’s breath caught at the sharpness of your tone, his chest tightening. Before he could respond, you interrupted him, your voice cutting through the moment.

“Let me heal your face,” you said quietly, your voice softer again.

You reached up to touch his face, your magic cold against his burning wounds. As your fingers grazed his skin, he closed his eyes, the sensation both soothing and unsettling. He shouldn’t feel good about this, about the way your touch calmed him, about the way it made something stir deep inside him. He had thought of you as someone who had wronged him, someone he should stay away from. But now, something about your presence made him feel a pull that he couldn’t explain, like he had to tell you everything.

“Cassian,” he said, his voice rough, barely a whisper as his mind swirled with confusion.

“What?” you asked softly, focusing on his face as your magic worked.

“It was Cassian,” he said again, this time his voice strained.

“He’s the one who did this to me.”

“Why would he…?” you asked, still working on his face, your fingers lingering near his lips.

Blood was dripping down his chin, he must have bit it open again.

Azriel’s breath was shallow as he struggled to make sense of his emotions.

“He’s going mad,” he murmured, his voice tight.

“Because of Nesta?” you asked.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed, his tone bitter, almost defeated.

Your fingers lingered a moment longer, pressing gently to his lips, trying to heal the blood that still trickled from the cut. His heartbeat quickened, every nerve responding to your touch. His eyes met yours and for a split second, the world seemed to fall away. Desire stirred deep inside him he just hoped you wouldn’t notice. He wanted to kiss you, feel your lips against his once again, to stop pretending everything had been fine. But that would complicate everything. You would kill him if he tried.

He had been dreaming of you since the moment he saw you again, after four long years. And now, as your touch lingered on his skin, it felt like he had been pulled back in time

Before everything went wrong.

His thoughts were interrupted by your words, cutting through his thought.

“That your High Lord said he would execute her?” you asked, your voice bringing him back to the present.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely audible, breathless.

“Azriel,” your voice was soft, a gentle whisper that seemed to draw him in, your words wrapping around him like a siren’s call. He shut his eyes, groaning quietly, hoping you wouldn’t notice how his body reacted to your closeness.

“It was Rhys, not Cassian,” he responded, his voice hoarse.

“I don’t think a mate would leave another if they felt safe, right?” you pressed, your gaze steady, a challenge in your voice.

Azriel’s eyes met yours again, his breath hitching. He noticed the way your fingers glided over his skin, tenderly healing the cuts Cassian had left. His face was swollen, bruised, luckily, his jaw wasn’t broken and it seemed most of the wounds would heal fairly easily.

“He’s been kind of an asshole to her,” Azriel muttered, his voice rough as he tried to explain. “He’s been working and stressed a—”

“Would you have treated your mate like this?” you interrupted, the question almost too soft, too easy for him to answer.

You cradled his face gently, the light from your magic casting a soft blue glow around the room, healing his injuries as you continued to hold him. His eyes stayed locked with yours as you worked, his breath steadying despite the chaos inside. He felt lightheaded with how close you were to him.

“Never,” Azriel whispered, his voice tight. He licked his dry lips, his gaze never wavering from yours.

“Then why would it be okay for him to?”

Azriel swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. You weren’t wrong. Everything inside him wanted to defend Cassian, to defend the bond between mates, but the truth was hard to deny. He had failed to protect Nesta.

“I know your brother is in pain, but so is she,” you said softly, you almost had him.

Azriel’s jaw tightened beneath your touch, his breath quickening. His scarred hands moved to gently hold your wrists, as if to remove them from his face, but he winced at the pain.

Gently, you moved your hand over his chest, your fingers tracing his worn leathers. With delicate care, you unbuttoned his jacket, exposing the bruised skin underneath. His broken ribs made it difficult to breathe, you could see his discomfort. You began to heal him, the cool light of your magic glowing softly against his injured skin.

As the adrenaline slowly left his body, the pain seemed to hit him all at once. His eyes closed briefly, but when they opened again, they locked onto yours.

“You won’t tell them where she is,” you whispered, your voice unwavering.

His breath caught as your hands continued to work, moving to the buttons of his clothes, carefully unfastening his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

“Our son needs to be safe in his home,” you said meeting his lidded eyes.

“And you’ll make sure that nesta location wont be revealed either, just like you promised, right?”

Azriel let out a soft whimper.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as your hands continued their work.

Your hands moved carefully across his skin, over his chest to his throat. You stood up, now almost taller than him, tracing the handprint left on his throat.

“You’ll keep Nesta and us safe, right?”

Azriel nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a promise in them.

“It’s a bargain then,” you said softly.

“Yes” He said without hesitation, you felt a small burn behind your ear, you would check it out later.

You continued to heal him, your fingers gently brushing across the scarred surface of his hand. Something inside you stirred, something small, but it was there. You would deal with it later.

“Good,” you said, your voice returning to its usual firmness.

Standing straight, you broke the moment, your voice sharp and composed once more.

“Button up your pants. I’ll send another healer to take over.”

“I have to talk to the others,” you added, your words cold once again, as if nothing had changed.

Azriel looked up at you in confusion he wa so confuse about . “What?”

Azriel felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs.

His fingers twitched where they rested on his thighs, his mind still catching up to what had just happened. The warmth of your hands still lingered on his skin, but it had been a lie. You had just guided him exactly where you wanted, let him believe he was safe with you, that he could be vulnerable, just for a moment.

But you had never meant for it to be anything more than a transaction.

A bargain.

His stomach twisted, he felt sick. He should have known better. He should have seen it coming.

His jaw tightened as he watched you pull away, as if nothing had happened. The warmth in your voice was gone, replaced by that same cold, detached authority you always wielded so well.

He had been played.

And the worst part?

It wasn’t just anger that was coiling in his chest. It was something else, something darker, more dangerous.

Because for the first time in years, he had felt something real with you again. And he had no idea if he hated you for it… or if he wanted more.

“Amias has been waiting and crying all day,” you said, your eyes narrowing slightly.

“He’s been missing you. We’ll also need to have a conversation about that.”

Azriel’s face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes.

“Rest,” you said firmly. “You need it.”

He hesitated for a moment before standing up. His face, though no longer bruised visibly, still held the exhaustion and pain of the day.

“Let me see him first,” he requested quietly.

“You’re still hurt,” you said, pointing at him. “He’ll notice.”

His jaw clenched.

“Let me see him. Do I always have to beg you?” His voice was a mixture of frustration and hurt.

You didn’t flinch, your eyes locking onto his with a coldness that was never this vicious.

“Careful,” you said, your voice icy. It was a warning, a sharp reminder of the boundaries you’d set.

Azriel gulped, his posture stiffening before he slowly sank back into the chair, visibly deflated.

“You’ll see him when the healer allows it,” you added, your words leaving no room for argument.

With one final glance, you turned on your heel and walked out, the door closing behind you with a soft click, leaving Azriel to wrestle with his frustration and the worst day he might have had in a long century.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

Walking past the open window, you reached out and grabbed the white cat by the scruff of its neck. It let out a terrible, loud meow, its green eyes glaring at you with all the rage it could muster.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to, you little shit,” you muttered, holding it up to eye level.

The cat hissed, its tail lashing in irritation, but you didn’t let go. You simply kept walking, its tiny body dangling from your grip as it continued to yowl at you.

Taglist for Found you is closed!

Please leave some comments 💜

Also Anon I’ve thought about Eris and Nesta and this is for you✨ I hope you like it 😘

Still working on their story

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lovewithinletters · 1 year ago

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kooqitas · 2 months ago

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[FULL VERSION]

#pairing: seungcheol!santaclaus x reader ♡ smut [18+, mdni], pwp #synopsis: you never believed in santa claus, until he showed up at your house… belated merry christmas guysss <33

★m.list | inbox :D join my taglist

you were never a child who believed in santa claus, consequently you became an adult who didn't teach children about the old man, it was strange, you saw your friends from school having children and getting married and decorating christmas trees and you never understood why they cared so much about something superficial... of course, as the years went by, the act of living alone in another city completely affected the christmas spirit that you no longer had! of course, you're not some kind of grinch, you don't destroy anyone's christmas, you're just not involved in this celebration.

so this is the situation: it's past midnight and you're lying on the couch in your red pajamas while eating wine and a panettone, and yes, that was the height of your christmas spirit! you were watching some random christmas movie, but to be honest, you couldn't even tell the plot since you weren't paying the slightest attention.

you decided to go to the kitchen just to get another bottle of wine.

and that's when things went wrong.

you heard a loud noise as you left the kitchen, followed by a rustling of clothes. oh great, someone would rob your house on christmas day. okay, you're not the biggest fan of the date, but damn, doesn't the thief have a family?

you grabbed a knife, praying he didn't have a gun, but when you got to the kitchen you found only a hot man on your couch- what?

you screamed, he screamed, it was pathetic!

"who the fuck are you? why are you in my house?"

"what do you mean, who am i? santa claus!"

"fucking santa claus, get out of my house now!"

and you pushed the guy out, but when you turned around there he was again on your couch. what the hell was that.

"you know it's not very polite to kick santa claus out of the house, right?"

drunk. you were definitely drunk.

"hey, hey, hey, young lady!" the supposed santa claus yelled at you. "don't turn your back on me."

"dude, fuck you!"

santa rolled his eyes, extending his hand to you and giving you a smile. "you can call me seunghcheol."

"fuck you!"

at that point, you just accepted that you were delirious. santa claus doesn't exist. if he did, he wouldn't be in your house, much less so hot and young.

"i can read your thoughts, respect me!" seungcheol scolded you, making you roll your eyes and laugh, doubting the telepathic power of the supposed santa claus. "i already understand that you want my dick in you, stop thinking about it!"

"wait. what?"

"damn, you really don't believe that i'm santa claus?" and you definitely denied it. who the fuck would believe that crazy story? "i'm here because someone wrote a letter saying that you needed an unforgettable night of sex."

"fuck, your job pays you so little that you became a prostitute?"

you laughed, and in the next second, santa claus was in his underwear. no, he didn't remove anything, they just disappeared and damn, he was so hot, you really wouldn't mind a night of sex with this crazy guy using inexplicable magical techniques.

"i can still read your mind!" he scolded. "you know what they say about girls who don't behave?"

"that they don't get christmas presents?" you scoffed.

"exactly. but apparently you're an exception, since i'm here today to give you a present... the best one."

"are you going to make me work in your toy factory?"

"no. your toy will be my dick making you dumb."

and the next minute you were on your knees for santa claus, his red underwear making it clear that he liked the present as much as you did.

you just let yourself go, if it was a damn dream caused by drinking, if it was a hallucination, if it was a crazy person who broke into your house... at this point, fuck it, you were turned on.

santa claus knelt down next to you, and in that damn stupid magic you ended up tied with a red bow, your hands were behind your back, and he smiled as he kissed the corner of your lips.

you begged for more, wanting to feel more of the stranger in red underwear in your living room, and he gave in, placing the tip of his tongue under your lips, and entering the muscle when you opened them.

santa claus, seungcheol or whoever the hell he was, was a really fucking good kisser, it was hard to believe that a great christmas story could turn you on so much, the hot, wet, dominating kiss was pathetic but you were already wet.

and then he walked around your naked body - wait what?

when the fuck did you get naked?

"i still read your mind," he chuckled softly, kissing your neck. "i already told you, kitten, i'm santa claus, i can do whatever i want." he kissed your neck again, his hand now touching your nipple. making you shiver.

you moan softly when he lowers his hand to your core, his middle finger playing directly with your entrance. ""wet." and you tremble. "but not enough, hm?"

santa slowly pushes you against the living room carpet, leaving you almost on all fours for him, still tied up. and that's where he sucks you.

you've never felt anything like this in your life, fuck, his tongue seemed magical, it was embarrassing the way you moaned like a bitch in heat.

"don't worry." he laughed. "i like those slutty moans of yours."

damn mind reader.

he kept sucking you, and you didn't know if that was experience or desperation to have you, seungcheol seemed like he was about to explode.

maybe it was both, because when he had two fingers inside you he started touching himself, shit, it was like a fucking porn to look over your shoulder and see santa claus sucking you on all fours. that was crazy.

but it was happening and you weren't going to complain!

all you could think about was how much you wanted that man, santa claus, magical being, ghost, fuck whatever the fuck he was, you needed him inside you.

"my little bitch can't wait, can you? you want my cock opening you up, don't you? you want to feel the fucking christmas spirit in your pussy!"

he untied you, and you could see reindeer flying in a sleigh when he finally penetrated you!

"fucking hot!" he slapped your ass as he thrust harder, and you moaned, something incoherent, fuck. "is this what you always dreamed of for christmas? getting on all fours like a slut while the santa claus you swore didn't exist opens up your pussy?"

you felt dirty, thinking about or doing things with santa claus in the middle of christmas? fuck, that would disgust anyone! but there you were begging seungcheol to make you cum.

"oh yeah, you're dirty! you're disgusting, what kind of cheap slut would want santa claus to cum inside her? you're sick."

he squeezed your neck, controlling your airflow as he felt your pussy throbbing on his dick.

"this is the fucking christmas you deserve!" he spat the words.

and that's how you came.

santa claus magic? i don't know, but he came right after, the hot liquid all over your uterus.

seungcheol slapped your ass again, and you ended up falling asleep right there.

the next day you woke up in your bed, the memories of what was the dirtiest sexual dream of your life came flooding back! damn, you needed water!

who the hell was the guy you dreamed about? santa claus doesn't exist, and if he does, he wouldn't be as hot as seungcheol.

you went to the fridge and what caught your attention was the red post-it stuck to it!

"i loved the night! i hope to see you next christmas. - sc"

fuck.

♡@highvivvy, @bath1lda, @unlikelysublimekryptonite, @gyuguys, @aaa-sia, @iarayara @kwanholic @rjea @madgirlstime @gyuguys

379 notes · View notes

yurinaa-world · 6 months ago

Note

Hello!! can I request Blade, Aventurine, Jiaoqiu and Sunday (it can be Boothill if you don't write sunday) from hsr with a fem so who loves physical touch like hugs, kisses, cuddling etc but is too afraid to ask from the character because she doesn't wasn't to overstep her boundaries? Sorry if this is too specific, I'm going on through this and I just want a bit of comfort lmao, also feel free to simplify the ask if it's too much! remember to take breaks and drink water :D

"𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓊𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊?"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Blade, Aventurine, Jiaoqiu, Sunday, & Boothill x Femalel reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who loves physical touch but is to shy to ask because you don't overstep their boundaries.

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fluff, & Spelling mistakes, added boothill as well because this would suit him so well,

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: GUYS, I ALWAYS EAT YOUR IDEAS UP (I went over board but I'm proud of how it came out) Hope you like it!!

💫𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈"

This guy is a complete dunce when comes to you. He’ll realize what you what want when it’s spelt letter by letter right in front of his face. like Kafka smacking him in the face to treat you right and go n’ give you some love like a proper lover would to his lady.

But now, he doesn’t get at all, why you’re acting like this, just devoiding of any type of affection. Taking back your touch before apposgising about it. Why? But never answer since you like to move away so quickly that he can’t get a chance. (it’s a sad sight for everyone to see.)

He’s rough with it, Don’t get too scared if he smashes his hand on the side of your head—hitting the wall instead—the sight was akin to a bully taking lunch money from the nerd. His words come out rough—like usual really but more angry this time but it’s nothing you can make sense of at first.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Blade was always odd but you were the odd one for being in love with him, so madly in love to the point you always liked to hang out with him even though it was more like a one-sided conversation but the fact that he cared by the fact he cared to listen to your every word (anytime he sees something similar to something you were talking about he gets it for you).

Not an affectionate man when it comes to talking or any romantic gestures, but the love is there, so does it matter? Because of the bare affection in this relationship, you thought it would make you uncomfortable if you asked for more. Yet right now you’re not exactly sure how it ended up like this.

You honestly feel bad for the brick wall behind, cracked, and dented in, all by his hand. He’s glaring so fiercely as if you insulted and spat on his face or worse. What is this even about? You aren't even sure but you feel sweat drip down from the back of your neck. Are you getting threatened by your lover no less?

“You’re…”

“...I’m what?” You can’t help but tilt your whole head at him. Just what? His hand leaves the wall, moving it to the back of your hand, sharply shoving your face in his face. You’re left in shock, what is he doing, exactly?

“What are you doing?” pulling your face back before he grabs your waist with his other hand and forcefully brings your body against him. This time he’s the one titling his head at you as if you were confused for no reason. “Since you can’t say it, I’ll do it for you.”

Huh…now you might have an idea of who told him that, curse them all, seriously. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He doesn’t care about that, sweet to everyone else you care so about him, but if want affection from him then that's what he's going to do.

Don't blame him too much if he pulls you in to kiss his rough lips—the complete opposite of yours—you feel like going to suffocate from the lack of air he’s letting you have when you pull away for a couple of seconds. Affection at its finest.

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

He’s like a walking magnet when it comes to affection & especially when it comes to giving it to you.

He can see your sulking, honestly, it’s written all over your face, taking glances at him before looking back down to think a little more—it’s obvious a gambler like him should always know what his opponent is thinking (you also count). Not trying to be cruel but it’s quite cute seeing you like that.

He just chops it up to the idea of you being too shy! It’s so cute honestly. Only to be left sort of speechless when you ask if he wants you to hug, he didn’t expect that question at all, and for some reason, it makes the hug even better.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You seem quite deep in thought,” A sly grin was plastered on his lips. The little sulker you are. Just standing there deep in thought, breaking your thoughts to glance at him, it’s just a repeating cycle. Only when he finally calls out to you, is when you finally break out from the cycle.

“Why so nervous? Hmm, hiding something?” leaning closer to your face just to see that pretty face all red by such a simple action. You’re not sure of what he might say, you just wanted more of his affection, yet you don’t want to go overboard with it, just like him uncomfortable.

Your face does say everything you're thinking, every single thought. Looking him in the eyes, it’s obvious he’s gonna get an answer from you, and you just ask away since the worst he could say is no. “Well, I wanted to ask, if you’re comfortable, I could hug you.”

The feeling of nervousness begins pooling in your stomach, getting worse when your face goes blank, processing your words.

“If I'm comfortable?”

“Just in case you didn’t like it and didn’t want it.”

For the first time, this is anyone’s ever asked him if he was comfortable with wanting something, it’s stupid that anyone would even care that much. It all just clicks together, you were worried that he would be uncomfortable when you asked for more. Can you blame him when he laughs a little—he’s probably just lost his mind.

“Come here and give your lover a nice hug.”

It feels so nice to be in your embrace, it’s nothing like any other, his hand can’t help but to go up and gently pat the top of your pretty head. He wants more, the genuine feeling of a hug like this.

💫𝒥𝒾𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓊 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔"

That man knows everything, he’s a counsellor for goodness sake, and he reads people like books, you aren’t any different but one thing is that you’re so adorable whenever your face says what you’re thinking, it just makes him want to pinch and pull your cheeks as if you’re puffer fish.

He can see the way retracting your hand away from him or pretending to get something else as if you were a child getting caught putting your hand in the cookie jar. He sees the ways your eyes light when he gives you affection like a head pat but you never seem to ask for more when it’s so obviously written on your face.

After a long tiresome day, still finding a way to tease you a little. He’s open up and looks in such a loving gaze as you tell that you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable because you want more from him, you didn’t want to be greedy. How can he not spoil you, he wants to give you the entire world if it makes you happier.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Too tired to even eat?”

Lifting your head off the table accompanied by a tired groan leaving your throat, looking at Jiaoqiu, his chin resting on his hand. How exhausted you were that you weren’t even in the mood to eat anything, evidenced by you before, pushing the bowl—filled food—to the side so you could rest on the table.

“You couldn’t even imagine.”

“You should take yourself more, or you might just turn into skin and bones, I'll end up being your nurse,” He chided, taking his other free hand to push the bowl back in front of you. “At least one bite” He tries to persuade you when that unappetizing expression appears when looking at the bowl.

Even when you do take the spoon at least try eating a little bit of it so it doesn’t go to waste. Only for him to pat you on the head as if you were a little kid, yet unknowingly the sulking could be seen on your face. “If you want more you could just ask.”

“I don’t need any more food.”

“I mean: patting your head, it written all over your face that you want more,” you hear the teasing in his tone, especially when his eyes open to reveal its pretty gold colour, “Now are you going to tell me what the problem is?”

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable for asking for more.”

Funny how people always ask for more so comfortably yet here you are sulking and struggling over the need for and wanting his attention, how could you even be greedy when you’re holding back so much? His hand just lands back on your head, gently patting your head.

“Just how cute can you be?”

💫𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝒶𝓀 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

He's a part of the overthinker club, overprotective of you and wanting to keep you safe, when he feels the one-sidedness of your relationship, he’s stuck at a stump, odd right? He’s thought of every possibility of everything until perfection.

He's always been busy. so romantic relationships are easy to read and understand from the outside but now he’s in one with you, he tries to be as delicate and perfect as he can along with equal footing with each other, in short, what does he do? Are you disinterested in the current way things are going? Never returning his affection or love, one thing that you quiet or don’t enjoy but no it’s not that at all.

You see the relief in his eyes when it comes to light what you were keeping quiet, which somehow makes him fall for you even more by the fact you just care so much about his well-being, makes his heart warm at the fact you worried about what he’s feeling.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Do you feel unfilled in our relationship?”

As night took over the sky, took away any light except the from the moon that was shining down, giving most people the signal to go to bed and rest for the night.

For you and Sunday it was no different, getting ready for the night after a long day, yet it seemed to only you who was actually, Sunday on the other hand watching you, arms crossed while against the door frame.

When those odd words left his mouth—along with the most serious and emotional expression you’ve ever seen on his face—even you were left in slight shock, this completely out of nowhere.

“Of course I am. Maybe you’re tired after such a long day of work.” you smile at him, going past him to go to bed, in the hope that possibly, he’ll take off his clothes and rest with you.

In swift motion, his arms wrap around your waist, bringing your back against his chest, his face in neck. You could feel his warm cheek against your neck, feeling the soft feather of his wings against the back of your head, you could feel your breath stop.

“Does my touch repulse you?”

“Sunday, what are you talking?” The same thing again, seriously what’s happened to him to be acting like this? His arms hold you tighter.

“You never wish to reciprocate my feelings…have I done something wrong?”

You were left speechless at those words, that wasn’t true in the slightest, you wanted so badly to hug, take all of his affections that he gave you, and have more, but not sure if he would like it. If you went overboard someone from the outside could see, it wouldn’t end so well in the public’s eyes. Just so many possibilities

“It’s nothing like that. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable by it, so I didn’t ask.”

You feel his head bury itself deeper in your neck. By that answer he can’t sigh in relief, sweet and caring as always, you had him so worried, he doesn’t blame you for caring about so much.

💫𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓍𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

tad bit angsty, but fluff

He’ll do anything for your affection, being with you is like feeling the sun. You legitimately make him feel alive even though his body is a scrap of his former self and who he used to be. He is scared he might ruin what he has with you, it’s just too much for him to lose you. (since you’re the only one that isn’t freaked out or scared of him)

It might just be him trying not to make you uncomfortable with his affection when he realizes you aren’t visibly saying that you like it or if you want more of his affection (undying love). He’s stumped, he's overthinking if he did something that made you despise him or something. Did he say something stupid again?

You can just see him physically down as well, it's pretty obvious. (sitting on the stairs with his hat off). While you go to check on him, he is just a little emotional until you just confused about what he’s going on about. You can see his face contort as you tell him the reason for him, he’s in shock, no relief. Everything at once.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

He doesn’t know what to do in a moment like this, his mind feels just…hazy. Or confused about the next step. You don’t like him, do you? You never want more from him, nor any hints at all. He must have done something, just something! It must’ve been when he went overboard.

He can lose you over this, not like this.

“Boothill, are you alright?”

You can't believe the sight of him like this, sitting on the stairs, hat off, hair messier than usual, his face soaked up with sadness and deep thought horrid that even you know he’s out of it. “I’m sorry if I hurt ya, I probably bein’ stupid again.” he just started pouring out, like an overfilled bucket in the harsh rain. He looked as if he was going to cry.

“Boothill what are you talking about?” cutting him off from rant to see where this idea even came from. You're not even mad at him in the slightest, “You don’t ask wanting more affection from me, then you don’t try to reciprocate it because yer’ mad at me for doing something!”

“That’s not the reason, I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable by asking more from you.”

“Say wha? Me?” You just see his eyes widen like they were going to pop right out of his sockets, you just see his face contort into various as he tries to comprehend your words, he just jumps up like a rocket, staring at your nervous face.

“Come on I'm like hunk a metal for a man, n’ you don’t wanna make ME uncomfortable? I’ll kill for one of yer’ kisses! Or anything!”

His hand lands on your shoulders, looking at you with the most love-burning gaze you have ever seen from him, he was serious about this, about you. He presses his forehead against yours, tightening his hands on your shoulders. “Can I kiss ya silly then? Since you don't mind.”

The second you said yes, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips, a bit rough, but he didn’t want to pull away, not more than a second.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

871 notes · View notes

corroded-hellfire · 1 year ago

Note

I am humbly requesting Eddie wearing a shirt that says “nerds make the best lovers” and then proving it to bookworm!Reader.

Your request is my command. I hope I have done your idea justice!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, slight choking, soft dom!eddie, public sex (kinda?)

Words: 2.2k

Eddie struts into your first period English class with Ms. O’Donell, late as usual, and she doesn’t even glance away from the chalkboard she’s scribbling vocabulary words on to acknowledge his tardiness. On instinct, you smile at your boyfriend as he makes his way to his seat near you, but as your eyes scan over his shirt, heat blooms in your cheeks.

“Nerds Make the Best Lovers” his t-shirt claims in bold, gothic-style red lettering on the black tee. Eddie gives you a brazen wink and by the sound of all the snickering coming from students around you, you know other people have read the clothing’s pronouncement as well. Mortified, you bury your face in your hands, only peeking out to see if O’Donnell caught a glimpse of her least favorite student’s shirt. Luckily, O’Donnell gave up reading whatever shit his t-shirts said after her twentieth time or so sending Eddie to the front office for dress code violations.

Eddie plops down in the seat next to yours and he shoots you another wink as if you hadn’t seen the first one he gave you when he walked in. Refusing to encourage any of this behavior, you don’t look your boyfriend’s way once the entirety of the class.

Once the period ends, however, Eddie won’t let you get away from him that easily. He jogs down the hallway to catch up with you and drapes a heavy arm over your shoulders.

“Where’s the fire, baby?” he asks. “Where ya headed in such a hurry?”

You shake your head in non-response and keep walking down the hallway, not sparing him a glance. Eventually, you come to a section of hallway that’s mostly emptied of people and you turn to face him, your shoes squeaking against the white linoleum floor beneath you at the tenacity of your spin.

“What is with that shirt, Eddie? Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“Embarrass you?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. “Baby, I’m just stating a fact. Nerds do make the best lovers. And I’m more than happy to give you a reminder…”

He trails a finger up your arm, and it sends a thrilling shiver down your spine. Any irritation or annoyance instantly melts away at his touch. Your resistance was already futile but Eddie putting his hands on you always seems to shut off any coherent part of your brain.

“A reminder, huh?” you coo, ensnared by his flirtations.

“That’s right. I’ll show just how good this nerd can make you feel.”

You decide to hell with it; there’s nothing particularly important going on today. Nothing that you couldn’t afford to miss, anyway. And even if there was? Eddie’s body pressed up against yours is worth a detention or a missed test.

“Should we head out to your van for this demonstration?” you ask. The number of times his old, beat down van has been out in the school parking lot, rocking back and forth from the two of you, is too high to count. Most of the times being while school is still in session.

“No, I’ve got somewhere better in mind.” Eddie tugs you by the wrist, leading you down the hall in the opposite direction. He comes to a halt in front of a familiar door and pulls you into the drama room. It’s abandoned and quiet as Eddie locks the door behind you. There’s some D&D paraphernalia scattered around the room, a few D20s that were left out on the table.

“Hmm, so the ultimate symbolism of your nerdiness, huh?” You tease as you sit yourself down on his throne at the head of the table. The seat is cold beneath you, but you refuse to let it show.

Eddie stalks over to stand before you and rests a hand on either arm rest of the throne. He lowers his head to meet your gaze with his own challenging one.

“I suppose you think I’m going to kick you out,” he says, referring to the seat. “Not today, my lady. Today…” he lowers himself down to his knees. “Today you just sit back and enjoy my throne while I make you feel good.”

He makes quick work of yanking your jeans and panties off and tosses them somewhere behind him. A strong hand grips each of your calves and spreads your legs wide open, Eddie wasting no time before he’s licking a stripe up your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, fingers digging into the sturdy arm rests at your sides.

Eddie smirks against your pussy as he begins to flick his tongue against your clit. He knows every one of your little tells and knows just the right speeds and pressures to apply to your bundle of nerves to get you just where he wants you to go.

Your fingers scramble to find purchase on the chair as pleasure floods your body, so Eddie laces one of his hands with yours to ground you. His mouth keeps working against your pussy and you do your best not to grind your hips up to meet his tongue. It’s so tempting but you know it will only draw out Eddie’s teasing in the long run.

With his free hand, Eddie delicately trails one ringed finger around your entrance, going round and round, never breaching it though. The delicious whines spilling from your lips only encourage him on.

“Shit, you taste so good, baby. God, I love your pussy,” he murmurs from between your legs.

“Eddie,” you whimper desperately, eager for him to use his fingers already. Being a nerd might not necessarily make him the best lover, but being a guitar player does make for a magical experience when he fingers you.

“Mm?” he hums against your core.

“N-Need your f-fing—holy shit, yes.”

Eddie knew what you needed before you even said it. The two of you work so well together, both mind and body, that you’re like separate pieces of the same machine, headed towards the same goal.

Two thick fingers stretch you out, at your request, as Eddie raises his head slightly to suck on your clit. He curls his fingers up and gently brushes over the spot that he knows makes you see stars. Your own fingers tighten on the arms of the throne and your legs tense around Eddie’s head.

“Shit! Fuck, fuck, I’m coming!”

Eddie smirks against your clit as he helps you ride it out, with both his fingers and mouth. He loves watching you as you come down from your high; all out of breath and dewy from a thin layer of sweat.

The loss of his fingers as he slips them out of you is quickly made okay as you watch him pop them in his mouth as you try and catch your breath. His cocky facial expressions would annoy you if you weren’t feeling so amazing from his damn mouth.

Once he’s licked you from his fingers, he reaches down and fumbles with the handcuff buckle on his belt.

“Made you feel so good and didn’t even take my cock out yet.”

“Wipe that…smirk off your face.” You try to sound assertive, but it falls flat in your blissed out state.

Eddie chuckles and leans in, wrapping one hand around your throat; not tight enough to restrict air, just enough for you to feel the pressure.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands here, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear. “Pretty sure you’d let me do whatever the hell I want to you right now, won’t you?” Both of you know the answer to that, but when you don’t give a verbal response, Eddie tightens his grip on your throat just slightly. “I said, won’t you?” he growls.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak out.

The sound pleases Eddie, and he smiles deviously as he releases your throat. He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek that’s a stark contrast to how he was just handling you.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, smugness clear in his tone.

He grabs your hands and yanks you up out of the throne. An involuntary yelp passes through your lips as he spins the two of you around and backs you up until your bare thighs bump into the table.

“Shirt off. Bra too,” Eddie orders.

You do as he says, Eddie’s eyes taking you in like the prey that you are to him with every move that you make.

Once you’re completely naked, Eddie presses his index finger right in the middle of your chest and gives just enough force for you to get the hint that he wants you to lie back.

The moment you get your ass on the table, large strong hands grab behind your knees and pull you towards the edge, so your back falls flat against the surface and your legs are able to wrap around your boyfriend’s lithe body. He pushes down his black jeans and boxers enough to line himself up with your entrance. But he doesn’t push in just yet.

“Say my fucking name, sweetheart,” he says as he leans over you.

“E-Eddie.”

“Louder. I want anyone walking by to know who’s in here making you feel so good.”

“Eddie!”

The man’s grip tightens on your legs and his cock just barely slips into you.

“I said louder. Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me or what?”

“Fuck, Eddie!”

He smirks in triumph at the way you scream his name.

“That’s my girl.”

He finally pushes inside of you, agonizingly slowly, his body towering over yours as he thrusts. Each time, he goes a little deeper, his eyes boring right into yours as he moves his hips.

Your jaw drops open and small gasps escape your lips. You’re not sure what’s hotter: how Eddie’s pounding into you or how he’s staring into your eyes, not once breaking contact.

Eddie groans as he finally bottoms out.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight.”

No words whatsoever fill your mind as you lose yourself in the feeling of Eddie inside your walls. Your boyfriend notices this as well and another arrogant smirk grows on his lips while he stares down at you.

“Aw, already cock drunk, princess? Not a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

You want so badly to refute it, but you don’t have the words to do so–only further proving his point.

The cool table feels nice against your back as your skin becomes sticky with sweat. Your hands slide from Eddie’s arms and your fingers grip the edge of the table.

Eddie notices the movement and doesn’t want you holding on to anything that isn’t him, though. His hands slide up your body and he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“Oh, she can speak,” Eddie coos.

“Eddie.”

“What is it, my love?”

“C-Close.”

Eddie holds both of your wrists in one hand while the other one snakes down and presses his thumb against your clit.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie goads. “Be my good girl and cum for me.”

“W-Want you to…with me,” you pant out between labored breaths.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie says with a wry chuckle. “I’m right there with you.”

Eddie might be a complete menace sometimes, knowing exactly how to drive you crazy, but you know him just as well and know how to bring him to the brink.

“I-Inside,” you pant. “Need you to cum inside me.”

“Jesus,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his teeth as he tries to hold back.

“Please,” you beg.

“Well,” Eddie huffs with a laugh, “since you asked so nicely. Come on, princess. Let go.”

The twitch of Eddie inside of you and the feeling of him filling you up has you arching your back as sparks fly behind your eyelids and ecstasy radiates up your body.

“Eddie, yes.”

“Louder,” Eddie manages as he fucks his load into you.

“Eddie!”

The blissed out feeling from his orgasm and your shouting of his name puts a big, dopey grin on Eddie’s face.

“Shit, princess,” he says with a chuckle as he buries his head in your neck. You giggle as he presses kisses and nips at the skin there.

Eddie doesn’t make a move to get off of you, which you don’t mind one bit. You tangle your fingers in his frizzy locks and press kisses to the side of his head.

“So?” he eventually mumbles against your skin.

“So what?”

Eddie picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do nerds make the best lovers or what?” he asks, eyebrows waggling.

You can’t help but laugh as you nod your head in affirmation.

“Yes, Eddie. You have proven it to me.”

“Mmm, good,” he hums before he goes back to kissing your neck.

“What’re you doing?” you ask as the kisses become more and more intense.

He pulls back to look at you again.

“You really think the best lover is only going for one round?” He scoffs and goes back to kissing your neck.

“Thank God for nerds,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #request

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kurishiri · 3 months ago

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01 ┊ The final promise, a mother's death

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— jude⌛'s past records, record #1.

— cw: domestic child abuse (physical), death of a family member, mentions of alcoholism and family neglect.

The amount of happiness a person is given in their lifetime is decided, and it is split equally for everyone.

Such was written in a book somewhere.

Just as there was no abundance of good things, neither was there an abundance of bad. Everything was made to be equal.

——If that was the case, then just what did this bloody wretched life of mine ever amount to?

Since I was born, I had never gotten a taste of that feeling called ‘happiness.’

My father was an immigrant from Ireland, who worked at the seaport.

The place was filled with violent people, making both public order and the working environment in poor condition, but not working would be the same as death.

And what was tragic about the job was the fact that you could be laid off at any point.

Jude’s father: Blast it all! I went outta my way to show up n’ they went and kicked me out!

Jude’s older brother: Was a fool’s errand from the start!

In the cramped house, the scent of liquor and tobacco pervaded the room,

and perhaps because of continuous exposure to that, my younger sister and I had weak lungs, and were often prone to asthma attacks.

Jude’s younger sister: *cough* *cough*...

Jude: Quit it already.

Jude’s father: ...Hah?

Jude: If ya continue smokin’ that stuff, ain’t no way we’re gettin’ any better.

J: If you’re gonna smoke go n’ do it outsi——gh!

All of a sudden, he hit my cheeks, and the moment I collapsed on the floor, he grabbed my hair.

Jude’s father: I dare ya to try sayin’ that again.

Jude: Hah, did ya drink so much booze your ears gone bad? I’ll say it however much I gotta.

J: I’m sayin’ ya don’t even got a penny in your pocket and yet ya go off smokin’ that stuff——guah!

This time, he hit my other cheek without holding back.

Jude’s father: Jude. How old are ya?

Jude: ...Five.

Jude’s father: Which is the age ya can go n’ work a job. And yet here ya are not doin’ that ‘cause you’re coughin’ a lung up.

Jude’s father: Who do ya think ya are, complainin’ when you’re a useless piece o’ trash, huh!?

Grasping at my hair, he tried to drag me around, when——

Jude’s mother: Stop this at once...!

Jude: Mum...

Jude’s mother: I’ll give him a talk and make him listen. Okay?

Mother took some money, and the two left the house for a drink.

(That cash... went and sold off clothes again, innit.)

She was a woman who could use perfect Queen’s English, and she was originally a well-to-do lady, or so I heard.

But, she pulled the short end of the stick, getting together with a good-for-nothing.

She sold the little jewels and clothes she had brought until she had nothing left to her name, and her health deteriorated.

—— Time skip (I think) ——

Jude’s mother: Jude, come here a bit.

Mother took me out to the garden, and there she took a stick and started writing something on the ground.

Jude: Mum, what’s this?

Jude’s mother: These are letters. They represent the words we speak... let’s see... it’s much like a ‘sign,’ so to speak.

Jude’s mother: See, this is how you write your name. J, U, D, E.

I copied Mother’s letters, writing them on the ground.

Jude: Wow, I could really get behind this. Hey, how do ya write Jazza——

Just then, Mother pulled me into an embrace.

Jude: Mum...?

Jude’s mother: In the times to come, even when your body is weak, and your money scarce, as long as you have wisdom, you can live on with that.

Jude’s mother: Jude, you are intelligent. I am sure knowledge will be your guardian.

Jude: Hey, mum, if ya hug me so tight it’s gonna hurt.

Jude’s mother: Hehe, you’re a big brother, aren’t you? You can handle this much at least.

Not too long after, Mother’s body grew weak, and she passed away.

The only thing left behind was the cold bed which she no longer occupied.

(She probably knew things would turn out this way.)

Running my hand along the cold surface of the bed, I recalled the final conversation we shared.

—— Flashback ——

Jude’s mother: Jude... I’m sorry.

Jude: What’re ya apologizin’ for? There’s a mountain of people other than ya who gotta apologize.

Father and my older brother drowned in alcohol, and even on death’s door, they didn’t bother even showing their faces.

Jude’s mother: ...I’m sorry, I’m sorry...

Jude: ...N’ like I said, don’t apologize.

Jude’s mother: ...Please...take care of your sister...Jude.

—— End flashback ——

That became the final conversation.

And, after that, my life stumbled even more down to the pits of hell.

to be continued…

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masterlist🌙 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

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ghostieblr · 4 months ago

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Melting Glaciers

Because the universe is unfair, it gives Derek Hale a kitten. One that is just as black as his wolf fur, and just as scary looking until you manage to get close to her by a painstakingly long process of trust exercises and find that oh, she's the most adorable thing in the world, too.

See, Stiles is a realist. When constant skirmishes with one certain older werewolfman, where his life was equally threatened and saved by this said werewolfman, made his little Stiles happy to the point of constant little deaths in the not-so-privacy of his bedroom, he'd choked down the realization of not being so straight as he'd mistakenly thought. At the time, the sorrow of it had more to do with the fact that his crushes were always so unattainable rather than the fact that it was a man he was crushing on, one that his dad had arrested too. And then when his dad was brought into the fold of the hidden layer in their world, and he saw his dad recognize the real Derek, he knew he had his dad's permission.

His dad's always been a realist, too. Stiles' affection is anything but secret when it comes to Derek, because he deserves all the good things in the world, and despite his design to push and prod until the person Stiles is talking to comes undone and shares their secrets, Stiles has done anything but that with him. In the beginning, it was curiousity. It was his desire to know the unknown, to gather all the facts, to know enough to get over Derek Fuckin' Hale. Somewhere down the line, but very close to beginning, his feelings turned warmer, though. Glacier of ice melting into rivulets of water, carried away on a sea of emotions he'd denied himself to dip toes in for far too long.

And now that Derek's brought home a kitten he found abandoned near the Walmart, and named her Princess of all things, Stiles has been forced to take a fucking dive into that sea.

He makes a choked off sound when Derek, in the middle of the Loft, takes off his soft-looking, cozy green henley, and Stiles is assualted with the very vivid view of his gorgeous abs.

Derek opens his arms and Princess, deeming it her cue, climbs atop him, her little claws her little helpers, and Derek's enchanting smile Stiles' doom. Once she's nestled against his chest, he looks at Stiles. Another sound falls from Stiles' mouth, without his permission. It's a whine, he thinks; a call for help.

"You okay?"

O-K-A-Y. Four letter word, where sometimes the last two alphabets are unnecessary. Just like this question.

"What do you think!" Oh no. He needs to calm down. Princess is looking at him, her green eyes wide and anxious. Stiles whispers, hisses really, "Her! You! Henley!"

Derek looks at his little princess, then looks back at him. "You are not making sense, Stiles." Looks back at Princess, says, "Your Tata is acting crazy." Princess meows, as if in agreement, and oh fuck, seriously universe? Why should Derek look so damned adorable when he's just paying attention to his kitten like many others do! Hell, Peter was doing the same thing in the last pack meeting, and Stiles had thought nothing of it. But Derek does it, and it's like Stiles has discovered a whole new world of kinks. What the hell.

During Stiles' inner freakout, Derek has managed to sit on the couch, and now he's petting Princess, who is still attached to his chest like a barnacle. Why isn't Stiles a kitten?

Wait.

"DID YOU JUST ME CALL ME HER TATA?!"

Princess hisses quite venomously at him, probably at the volume of his voice, because Derek winces too. Oops. But no, not oops!

This is serious business.

He points a finger at Princess. "Don't talk to me like that young lady," he waggles his finger for emphasis. She follows it with her eyes, looks at Derek once, then settles down and watches him with wide, unblinking eyes. What an attitude on this one. Just like her dad, really. Who is... looking at him, the corner of his lips tilted up in amusement. "You. Words. Explain."

"Words are usually his thing," Derek tells Princess, who meows once in acknowledgment. Then he lifts his eyes towards Stiles and pats the free seat beside him. Stiles sits. "I am more of an action person."

And then Derek takes Stiles' hand and puts it on top of his other one, the one Derek's been using to constantly pet Princess. Stiles' breath stops for a moment at the touch.

"Is this okay?"

"More than," Stiles admits, and watches with awe as Derek's eye sparkle under the waning sunlight, the way his mouth stretches further up into a grin, unabashed and unbelievably pretty this close up. Stiles forms a grin in response too. "So," he says, playfulness creeping away the shock. "Since I am her Tata... I vote to name her Princess Leia."

Derek's laughter in response echoes through the Loft, and Princess makes her displeasure known at the vibrations on her comfy spot by jumping onto Stiles' chest. They remove their hands at the movement, and Stiles puts his hands back on her, lets her burrow in his chest. She's already in his heart, anyways.

"Stiles," Derek says when he's calmed down, only a minute later. Stiles isn't even offended; The sound of Derek's laughter is like eating candy. Like pure bliss. "That's already her name."

Stiles blinks.

Derek calls, "Leia, come to dad," and she goes.

"I love you so, so, so much, you don't even know, Derek Hale," the words come out, and he... is not afraid they're out there, because Derek has, once again, Princess Leia on his chest, and his left arm comes around Stiles' shoulders to pull him in towards himself.

Derek kisses the top of his head, and Stiles melts, and he is a realist, so when Derek replies, "I love you, too, so, so, so much," he knows he's done for life.

Stiles' heart will belong to no other, but Derek Hale.

As if reading his thoughts, Princess Leia meows, and Stiles amends his mental declaration: his heart will belong to no other, but Derek Hale, and the family they create.

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fic recs #*sterek fic recs #derek hale adopts a kitten #sh.writesonmain #sh.writing

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